


Hurts Like Hell

by codiwill



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Disguise, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Bellamy, Princess Clarke, Protective Bellamy, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 107,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codiwill/pseuds/codiwill
Summary: King Jake was just murdered to keep a secret hidden and Princess Clarke thinks she is next. Queen Abby is suspiciously okay with her husband's death. Clarke is determined to learn how to fight and defend herself, but who's going to teach a Princess how to use a sword? And how is she going to learn when Queen Abby assigns her a personal guard that never leaves her side? Believe me, Sir Blake isn't happy about it either.Just a warning, this story can get pretty sad but the good parts make up for it!(or: Clarke being a badass and Bellamy having no idea what he is getting himself into.)





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke’s muscles burned as she swung the sword into the straw figure in front of her. She had been swinging at the target relentlessly for hours now, a habit that started weeks ago when she found the new knight training grounds. Every night Clarke changed out of her dress, into trousers and a loose shirt, and left the castle. She practiced in the dark to avoid being caught by any of the knights, or worse- her mother.

Two months ago, Clarke had never even held a sword, but the murder of her father had shifted something inside her. She was no longer content to just sit in the castle studying medicine or drawing or reading. The men who killed her father would be coming for her too and she wouldn’t go down without a fight if she could help it.

“Who’s there?” a dark voice broke Clarke out of her thoughts. She stumbled, surprised by the voice and her strike completely missed the target.

A small chuckle came from the darkness and Clarke pivoted towards it, sword held sharply out in front of her. A tall figured stepped forward, but not close enough that Clarke could see his features.

“Don’t come any closer,” she ground out in a lowered voice.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I wondered who was beating that target to pieces. I clean up every night before I leave and come back every morning to see straw scattered all over,” the man growled.

Clarke didn’t say anything. She thought she had been careful. If the knight stepped any closer he might recognize her and then she’d really be in trouble.

“Now I see its just some street urchin, playing knight, making a damn mess of my grounds.”

In an instant, the man snatched the sword from Clarke’s weakening grip and flipped it around on her. She didn’t hesitate, she ran. She vaulted herself over the wooden fence and tore through the grass towards the castle.

“Hey!” he cried out as she fled.

Clarke expected to hear pounding footsteps behind her, but there were none. She made it to the gardens before catching her breath. That had been close, too close for comfort. That knight would be on the lookout for her now.

Taking one last glance behind her, Clarke continued the rest of the way to the castle. She glared at the stone-wall in front of her, feeling mocked by her window at the very top. Clarke let out a long breath and clambered up the wall, placing her feet and hands on the protruding stones. She slipped into her cracked window, shuffled out of her trousers and into a nightgown and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

 

Clarke woke up to the smell of a hot breakfast and the welcoming smile of her handmaiden. Though she had been exhausted, her dreams were plagued with the voice of the knight from last night. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and climbed out of bed.

The smell of porridge filled her nose and before she knew it, Clarke was at her table shoving down the hot food in spoonfulls. Ever since she started training, Clarke had been eating ungodly amounts of food. It was as if she was never full.

A small sound captured her attention. Her handmaid stood by the bed, a weird look on her face and a rumbled brown fabric in her hand. Clarke’s stomach dropped. She had left her trousers and shirt from the night before on the floor.

“Uhh, Harper I can explain,” Clarke began, trying to come up with an excuse.

Harper simply raised her eyebrows and shook her head, “I won’t say a word.” Clarke let out an audible sigh of relief. Harper had been her handmaid since she was a girl. The two held each other’s secrets and had only recently grown apart, since Clarke’s father’s death.

“Your mother wants you in court today,” Harper said, shoving the clothing under the mattress.

“Great,” Clarke grumped, spooning out the last of her breakfast. Harper let out a small laugh. She was all too familiar with Clarke and Abby’s rocky relationship.

An hour later Clarke walked into court, bathed, dressed and grumpy as hell. The sight of her mother sitting on the throne took her utterly by surprise. She had only ever seen her father in that seat, but seeing her mother, looking more Queenly than she ever had before, made Clarke angry. Steeling her emotions, she took the seat next to the throne.

“Glad you could make it, sweetie,” Abby chimed. As if she had a choice. Clarke just gave her mother a small smile and turned away.

Abby cleared her throat, “Let them in.” The tall wooden doors were pulled open as three people entered.

Marcus Kane, the man in front, had been one of the King’s advisors and friends. Clarke’s heart clenched at the sight of him. Was Kane the one who had betrayed her father? Her thoughts were cut short as she notice the two people he was escorting in.

The first was a man, a tall man. He was dressed in simple dark clothing but a sword was strapped around his waste. A knight perhaps? As he got closer, Clarke noticed that his black hair was an unruly mess of curls and his face littered with freckles. Next to him was a lean girl with the same black hair and olive skin. Her eyes were green and sharp, though, and the man’s brown and wide.

“Your Majesty,” Kane said bowing to Abby. Abby gave him a nod and fond smile.

“Princess,” he addressed Clarke with the same bow. Clarke simply stared. He looked at her a moment, feeling uncomfortable, before turning his attention back to the Queen.

“I have brought Sir Blake as you requested.”

“Thank you, Marcus. Sir Blake?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the man said taking a step forward and bowing. He looked out of place, Clarke thought, like he wasn’t used to interacting with royals.

“And may I present my sister, Octavia,” he gestured to the girl behind him.

“Your Majesty.”

Abby gave a nod as the small girl curtsied.

“I asked Marcus to fetch you for a special assignment,” Abby got right to business. “I am told that you are very skilled, Sir Blake, maybe even the best knight this kingdom has.”

Clarke saw Sir Blake’s jaw clench, but he lowered his head and said, “You honor me, Your Majesty.”

“The King’s death has brought a light to the danger facing Ark Kingdom and my family. I am assigning you with the protection of this kingdom’s most valuable treasure, my daughter, Princess Clarke.”

“It would be my honor-“ Sir Blake was cut short as Clarke jumped out of her seat.

“NO!”

“Clarke!” her mother said, aghast, “Sit down before you dishonor this family further.”

“Dishonor? Me? I am not the one who took the throne the day after the King died. I am not the one who allows traitors to walk these halls posing as the help. I am not the one who started bedding my dead husband’s advisor weeks after he was murdered! I do not need another knight to protect me, Mother, but maybe you do.”

It was a threat, Clarke knew, she just didn’t know where it had come from. The anger and anxiety of the past days must have finally reached a tipping point inside her. She would no longer stand by and allow her mother to get away with this betrayal.

Movements stiff and eyes cold, Abby rose and walked down the throne steps to her daughter. Clarke's fierce blue gaze followed her movements.

The Blake siblings were looking at the Princess like she had just grown horns.

Abby’s hand lifted suddenly, heading for Clarke’s cheek. Bellamy, Kane, and Octavia visibly flinched. Bellamy closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the Princess get slapped. 

But the sound of palm to cheek contact never happened. Bellamy cracked open an eye after a moment. 

The two Griffin women stood in front of the throne, Clarke holding Abby’s wrist mere inches from her face. The Queen had the good sense to look surprised. Octavia had wide eyes, impressed at Clarke's quick reflexes. 

Abby tried to pull her wrist away, but the Princess tightened her hold. 

Her voice was calm, “You may be the Queen, but I don’t take orders from you.”

She released her mother’s wrist and without a second look pushed her way out of the throne room, past Kane, past Sir Blake and his sister, and into the cold hallways of the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke knew the castle better than anyone; she had grown up here after all and had plenty of time to find the perfect hiding places. Her favorite was the long spiral staircase above the kitchen in the servant’s quarters. The royal guard had never found her there before and the kitchen staff promised to keep the spot a secret in exchange for some of her drawings and paintings.

That’s where Clarke found herself a few hours after the throne room incident. She sat, legs crossed, on the window alcove with a sketchpad in her lap and looking out on the castle grounds. Soft footsteps began ascending the stairs. It was probably a cook or servant returning to their rooms for lunch and a nap.

“There you are,” a deep voice sighed. Clarke’s head jerked up from her sketch. Definitely not a servant.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” She snapped her sketchbook closed.

“I have been looking for you for hours,” Sir Blake said angrily.

The Princess just glared.

She turned her head back to the window. “Well you found me, now leave.”

“Sorry, Princess, but I don’t take orders from you.” Clarke’s hands involuntarily gripped her book harder. She didn’t like how easily he had thrown her own words back at her. They sat in the uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

“You never answered my question. How did you find me?” her eyes were hard as they met his.

He shook his head in annoyance. “After you practically ran from the throne room, I tried to follow but you had disappeared. I checked your rooms first and when I was there, a man came to the door looking for you. He said he was expected, and that if you weren’t there something must of happened with your mother. I had to bribe him to tell me where you were and he spent thirty minutes questioning my loyalty.” Sir Blake practically growled the last bit.

 _Wells_ , Clarke sighed. She had planned on a walk through the gardens and tea with him today, but had totally forgotten after this morning.

“Your loyalty?” Clarke raised an eyebrow.

Sir Blake ran a hand through his messy curls and Clarke couldn’t help but follow the movement with her eyes.

“The man would not tell me where you were until I could prove to him that I wasn’t sent by your mother to find you.”

“But you were,” Clarke countered.

“I explained to the young man that your mother had assigned me to protect you and that my only interest was in doing so, not hunting you down to bring you back to the Queen.”

Clarke smiled. Wells was her best friend. Their fathers had grown up together, had fought together, and had helped repair Ark Kingdom together. Well, they had tried. As children Clarke and Wells ran the halls of the castle together, had fights in mud puddles that had both their parents frowning, and they had endured 'Princess Training' together- as Well’s liked to call it. Wells and Clarke were both grown now, though, and their relationship had changed. He was an eligible Lord with a good family name and had spent the last year in search of a wife, at his father’s request.

Clarke had isolated herself without Wells and spent the past year with no social life. She knew her mother had been scouring the country for eligible bachelors and Clarke had been avoiding the situation by avoiding her mother entirely. The death of her father had put a halt in her mother’s wedding plans. The worry about being married off disappeared; now she had more important things to worry about, like protecting herself. Wells’ life had changed too. He had returned home to comfort Clarke and be with her while she mourned. 

If Wells had let Sir Blake know where she was, then this knight must have been very convincing. Wells kept secrets better than anyone she knew and he was fiercely protective of her, especially from Abby.

“Lord Wells is a trusted friend. If he told you where I was, it was because he believed what you said. Not because of a bribe.” Clarke stood, gathering her drawing materials.

Sir Blake looked down at her. “Very well. I would appreciate if you didn’t run anymore. Or if you do, at least give me some warning.”

“Let me be clear. Wells may have believed that you are trustworthy, but I do not. My mother is manipulative and rarely does anything that does not benefit her personally. I do not need you to protect me. My mother needs you to protect me. She knew I wouldn’t like this. In fact, she probably counted on me resisting, but she needs to make it seem like she cares.” Clarke straightened to her full height and met the young knight’s eyes. “You see, if I die, my mother doesn't have to worry about losing the throne."

Sir Blake’s eyes widened. Clarke gave a small smile and pushed passed him down the stairs. He stood there a moment, processing what she had just said before he took off after her for the second time that day.

Only one thing was clear. Princess Clarke was not was he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will start getting longer, I promise! Just bear with me.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy had been on protection duty for the Princess for three days now, but it felt like three months. He entered her room as soon as she was dressed, escorted her through the hallways, to dinner, and even loomed behind her like a shadow while she walked through the garden with Lord Wells. It was incredibly boring and he itched to have his sword in his hand. It had been days since he had trained and longer than that since he had been in a real fight.

The only comfort he got from the whole situation was that it seemed the Princess was nearly as bored as he. She sighed deeply constantly, always looking out to the kingdom as if she wanted to be anywhere but in the castle. As far as he could tell, the only time she looked remotely happy was when she was drawing. Bellamy enjoyed watching when she pulled out her sketchbook. Her nose scrunched up and hand flew across the page at a pace he couldn’t track. The drawings were impressive and almost always left the Princess covered in black smudges.

Bellamy was assigned to protect the Princess every hour of every day. He got one night off a week, when the royal guard stood watch outside the Princess’s door. Tonight was that night and he was incredibly excited to see his sister again.

Octavia was enjoying the castle life. When Kane had come to his door, saying that the Queen requested his presence, Bellamy dared not leave Octavia. He wasn’t sure he would ever come back home after a call to the royal court. He was happy that his instincts were right and that he had brought Octavia along. The Queen hadn’t seemed to mind, and Kane had offered to give Octavia a job working in the stables.

He opened the door to his new quarters and was practically bulldozed the ground.

“I missed you too, O," Bellamy chuckled. 

Octavia tightened herself around him, “Bell, I’ve missed you so much.”

He kissed the side of her head and dropped her back to her feet.

They spent the night catching up and eating soup and bread Bellamy had grabbed from the kitchen. Octavia told Bellamy how she loved the stables and one of the older stable hands offered to teach her to ride after she had worked there a little longer. Bellamy smiled and listened. It was the happiest she had been in a very long time. And Octavia being happy made him happy. 

“So, what’s the Princess like?” Octavia said ripping a piece of bread with her teeth.

Bellamy sighed, “She’s a Princess.”

“Well, duh.”

“No, I mean, she acts like a Princess. She’s used to getting her own way. She parades around the castle in fancy dresses, eating fancy food, drinking tea and being tutored in the most prestigious subjects this kingdom has to offer.” Even to his own ears, Bellamy sounded exasperated.

Octavia looked at him for a long minute and then shrugged, “She seemed pretty interesting to me that day in the throne room.”

Bellamy was quickly reminded of that morning. Worry had filled him as he walked into court- expecting his new assignment to take him away from his sister. He never expected to be assigned to the Princess and he definitely didn’t expect the feeling of dread that hit him when the Queen had announced it. He didn’t want to be a bodyguard. It wasn’t what he was good at. He wanted to fight. He wanted to continue training the squires and knights of the kingdom at the new grounds.

When the Princess protested the assignment as much as him, he was actually relieved. Maybe the girl could talk her mother into getting a different knight to do the job. Instead, she had yelled at the Queen for being dishonest and disloyal. It caught him completely off guard and he couldn’t help but look at the Princess with a hint of awe.

There were rumors that the Queen had conspired to kill her own husband. He suspected they weren’t true, but he also knew that every rumor had a piece of the real story.

When Queen Abby had raised a hand to slap her daughter, he had winced, not wanting to see the young girl get struck. He and Octavia had shared a look of shock as the Princess easily caught her mother’s had and basically told her to go screw herself.

The Princess may be spoiled, rich, and uptight and she probably never had to work a day in her life, but she was bold. His shock turned to annoyance when he had to spend half the day looking for her and each passing day only ruined his mood more.

“As interesting as a pampered princess can get, I guess.”

Octavia shrugged and quickly changed the subject to the dresses she had seen some of the ladies in the castle wearing.

Hours later, Octavia had fallen asleep by the fire. Bellamy scooped her up and tucked her into bed, giving her a kiss on the forehead. This was his first night off and he wasn’t going to waste it. Bellamy quickly changed out of his knight attire into a loose fitting shirt and trousers. He grabbed his sword and headed to the training grounds. The sword felt heavy in his hand, a good kind of heavy. The kind of heavy that meant his arms and shoulders would burn and he would be sore in the morning. Bellamy couldn’t help but smile. It was going to be a good night.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke was practically jumping up and down, she was so excited. Sir Blake was off tonight and her usual royal guard stood watch outside her door. She hadn’t dared to leave her room while Sir Blake was on duty. He was a knight with a new assignment; one she knew he took very seriously. He’d stalked behind her all day long for the past three days, practically breathing on the back of her neck. The royal guards, on the other hand, had worked in the castle for years. They saw watching her door as an opportunity to get some shut-eye.

Clarke changed her clothes quickly; making sure her hair was securely pinned under the hat she wore. The past weeks she had worn the hat, but never taken much time to fasten her hair. After that knight had caught her, though, she had to be more careful. She had even gone as far as wrapping her chest to flatten her cleavage.

Taking one of the charcoal sticks she used to draw, Clare carefully mixed it with her tan makeup. The result was a blackish brown concoction. Smiling to herself, Clarke applied the stuff to her face in smudges.

Clarke looked in the mirror above her dresser. There, now she really did look like a boy who lived on the streets.

She hid her makeup charcoal mix and carefully made her way out the window and down the wall.

The stones she used as steps to maneuver down the wall seemed to be made for climbing. They stuck out far enough for her hands and feet to fit safely. There was only one space where her legs were not long enough to reach. About half way down the wall, Clarke secured her hold and dangled. She looked down until she could clearly see the two stones poking out below her. It was the scariest part about sneaking out- that drop. After counting to three, Clarke let herself fall. Her feet landed securely on the two stones and Clarke flattened her hands and cheek against the wall to catch her balance.

“Whew,” she sighed.

The hard part was over. She scampered down the rest of the wall and jogged to the training grounds. When she neared, she stopped and listened. Nothing. No one was here training. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and made her way to the armory.

Damn. She didn’t need to feel the chains to know that the armory had been locked up and the sword she had been practicing with was lying securely behind those chained doors. It had never been locked before. Clarke cursed herself. That knight who had caught her must have started locking up the weapons. 

She went to the training station and picked up a wooden sword. Good enough. She needed to get back into the feel of swinging a sword anyways.

Clarke stretched for a few minutes, before grasping the wooden weapon and striking the straw dummy like mad.

An hour or so later, Clarke heard a noise. She stopped attacking the dummy to listen. She didn’t hear anything more, but her gut told her someone was there.

Using the deepest voice she could, Clarke called out, “Hello?”

Another noise. _Damn_. Someone was here.

Clarke quickly put the wooden sword back where she had found it and kicked the straw away with her feet. The place wasn’t nearly as clean as it had been the weeks before and the straw she had caused to come loose would be barely noticeable.

She turned to retreat, but found the path blocked by a tall figure. She stopped dead in her tracks, heart beating fast.

“You again.”

She gulped. The man was big, and this time he was expecting her to run. She could tell by the way he was standing. He looked like a lion, ready to pounce.

“Yes, me again,” she took a step back. He matched it, taking a step forward.

“I thought I made it clear last time. You aren’t welcome here, only knights are allowed. You don’t even know how to swing a sword properly.”

What did he mean she didn’t know how to swing a sword? She had been practicing for a month! Clarke took a breathe to tell him as much when something made her pause. The knight seemed all too familiar. It wasn’t until he took another step forward that Clarke realized why.

It was pitch black out, dark enough only to see shapes. That didn’t mean she couldn’t see the way the knight’s hair curled crazily around his head, as he got closer. She would recognize those dark curls anywhere.

 _Shit_.

Sir Blake, her personal protector, was also the jackass knight that had found her the other night. Now it made sense why the grounds weren’t being well taken care of anymore. Sir Blake had been in the castle with her, not training and supervising at the training arena.

This was not good. Before, she was worried about being recognized by any old knight. Now, she was standing five feet in front of a knight who had seen her for the past three days straight. He was definitely going to recognize her.

Sir Blake had his arms crossed, apparently waiting for an answer.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now. I think I know how to use a sword,” she said and crossed her own arms. God, she hoped she was pulling off this whole looking like a boy thing.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “You’re pretty strong for being so little, but you have no technique.”

She grumbled under her breath. Stupid knight thinks he knows everything.

“Here,” he said and handing her the wooden sword she had already put away, “Show me what you can do.”

Clarke couldn’t help her surprise. Was he serious?

She took the weapon cautiously and went back around to face the target. Sir Blake moved so that he was looking at her from over the right shoulder of the straw figure.

Clarke took a breath and swung. She chopped at the target over and over again until Sir Blake told her to stop. Her breath was coming fast as she kept the sword in her grip but dropped the end to the ground.

“Like I said, strong but no technique,” he stepped so that he was next to her, also facing the dummy

“Stand like this.” She altered her stance so that she was facing sideways, feet slightly farther apart but staggered.

“Good and hold the sword like this.” He reached for her hand and she flinched away. Clarke didn’t want Sir Blake to touch her, not while she was posing as a boy and he didn’t know who she really was. It felt wrong. He would never touch her if he knew she was the Princess. Sir Blake paused and looked down at her. She was thankful he couldn’t see her eyes.

Stepping away, Sir Blake went to retrieve another wooden sword. He came back and showed Clarke the proper way to hold it. She had to bend close to see the way his hand wrapped around the hilt, because of the darkness.

Quickly, she changed her grip and he nodded his approval.

“Go ahead,” he said gesturing at the target.

She swung. As soon as her sword hit, she knew something was different. Before, she had just been chopping away and swinging blindly, trying to put as much force behind her blows as possible. Now, as she swung the sword, she felt like a knight. Like she knew what she was doing. Clarke knew she was still a far cry away from being an expert swordsman, but she couldn’t help but feel like one day she would be able to hold her own against a real knight.

Clarke continued to swing and Sir Blake continued to correct her. After a while she had to stop or her arms were going to fall off.

“Why are you helping me?”

She could see his shrug in the barely there light of the moon.

“Because I was like you once- poor and barely surviving. I wanted to learn how to fight and eventually a real knight taught me. It’s only fair I do the same for a runt like you.”

Clarke watched as Sir Blake put down the wooden sword and made his way to the armory. She heard the chains move and he came back with a sword that she swore was glowing in the bare moonlight.

“This is for me, you’re not ready for a real one yet.”

Clarke wanted to argue but she knew he was right. If she wanted to learn how to fight properly, she was going to have to start at the beginning. If that meant using a stupid wooden sword for a few weeks, so be it. 

“Now go away, so I can train,” he growled. Clarke nodded, even though he probably couldn’t tell. She left the wooden sword where she found it and hopped the same fence she had the other night.

Before she could get too far, she stopped and turned. His body was barely visible, but she could see the glowing sword as it swung dangerously back and forth.

“Thank you!” she called out.

He only grunted in response. Clarke smiled to herself and hustled back home. She was going to be _so_ sore tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Bellamy’s body ached the next morning as he opened the door to the Princess's room. She was seated at her drawing desk, eating a bowl of oatmeal. Sir Blake couldn’t help but pause and stare. He had never seen a girl, let alone a Princess, eat so quickly and with such big spoonfuls. She didn’t even seem to notice him until he cleared his throat.

“Oh,” she cried out, wiping her face with a cloth, “Good morning, Sir Blake.”

“Good morning, Princess,” he grinned and a faint blush colored her cheeks.

“How was your night off?” she asked while taking a much smaller spoonful of her breakfast.

“It was wonderful, thank you. It was good to see my sister.”

The blonde nodded, finishing her food.

“I was thinking, I know Octavia is working down at the stables and a good friend of mine helps there as well. We could go a couple times a week, so you could visit with her and I wouldn’t mind getting back into riding.”

The statement took Bellamy by surprise. Had the Princess really called his sister by name? Did she really offer to go to the stables just so he could see Octavia a few times a week?

Clarke was staring at him intently, waiting for an answer.

“It’s your decision, Princess.” She rolled her eyes at him. “But yes, yes I would be very grateful to see my sister more often.”

The Princess seemed to like that answer better, because she gave him a small smile. “Good, we can go tomorrow then.”

The rest of the day drug on for Bellamy, and for Clarke. Both were relatively bored, sitting in the grass outside the castle. Clarke was drawing, sitting on a blanket she had set out while Bellamy watched from a nearby tree.

A movement to his right caught his attention. Royal guards were approaching, looking very serious. He straightened and made his way to the Princess, who didn’t seem to have noticed them yet.

“Princess…”

She looked up from her drawing with a large black smudge on her nose and he felt the urge to wipe it off, but quickly decided against it. Clarke was the Princess, not his sister. He wasn't allowed to touch her, no matter how casual. 

The Princess seemed to recognize the look in Sir Blake's eye and turned to see what had caused the alarm.

The guards were closer now and Clarke seemed to have noticed something he did not, because her fists balled and her jaw clenched. It wasn’t just royal guards approaching. They were escorting the Queen. Clarke stood, pushing her drawing supplies to the side.

As far as he knew, the Princess had not talked to the Queen since the almost slap in the throne room. A look at her tight face reminded him that he was here to protect her. Yes, her mother had hired him, but his job was to protect the Princess. Even if it meant protecting her from the Queen.

Bellamy took a step in front of Clarke, shielding her. The royal guard was mere feet in front of them and they parted to reveal Abby, looking regal as ever in a red gown. She stepped forward and met Bellamy’s eyes questioningly.

“Sir Blake, if you would step aside, I’d like to speak to my daughter.” He stayed in front of the Princess a moment longer than was probably necessary, but a push on his arm convinced him to move.

 

 

Clarke had gently pushed Sir Blake aside after a moment of him staring at her mother’s frosty gaze. She was surprised when he had stepped in front of her. Sir Blake had always been a pain in her ass, following her around day after day; reducing the time she enjoyed spending alone to nothing. But in that moment, Clarke was actually grateful. No one had ever stood between her and her mom before, not even her father.

He stepped to her side, still protective, just not blocking her from the Queen’s view.

“Yes, Mother?” Clarke said in a neutral tone.

“I have not seen you for days. You are expected to attend court, Clarke, no matter how much you don’t care about this kingdom.”

She felt herself straighten. Not care? She loved her kingdom. Her reason for not going to court revolved solely around the woman who presided in her father’s throne.

“I do care about this kingdom, mother, I care about it so much that I don’t want you ruling it.”

  
The royal guards stiffened. Clarke had threatened her mother in the throne when no guards were present, but now she had just threatened her mother in front of them.

“That’s the second time you’ve said something like that to me, Clarke. I know you’re still upset about your father and taking it out on me, but it’s time to grow up. If you threaten me again, there will be consequences,” Abby's face was pinched in anger, only mere inches from Clarke's face now. 

Bellamy watched as the Princess’s eyes narrowed menacingly. It was a look he didn’t want to ever be directed at him. The Queen’s words hadn’t seemed to scare Clarke- only piss her off.

“Yes, mother, I am still upset about my father being murdered in front of me two months ago. Though, it is interesting that you are apparently over the entire thing? Surely, a man you were married to for thirty years deserves a few months of grief.”

Abby didn’t reply, but her jaw twitched. After a pause, the Queen turned and stalked off back toward the castle. Her guards were left scrambling to follow.

“I’ll see you in court tomorrow!” Clarke called out to her mother’s retreating back. Abby didn’t stop, but Clarke hadn’t expected her too. 

The blonde girl huffed and bent down to pick up her stuff. She didn’t feel like drawing anymore, she felt like fighting. Sir Blake didn’t have his night off for another four days, and Clarke didn’t want to risk sneaking out under his vigilant watch.

“Are you okay, Princess?” the knight asked.

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling you Princess?” he was confused.

“Yes. You can call me that when we are around other people, but please… not when it’s just us.” Clarke looked up to meet Sir Blake’s gaze. Her blue eyes were wide and glassy and Bellamy couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl. She was hurting and her own mother seemed to be the cause. He nodded slowly.

“Okay, Clarke.”

“Thank you,” she said with a soft smile. Clarke liked the way he said her name.

They made their way back to the castle just as the sun was setting. Clarke ate dinner alone in her room, while Bellamy stood watch. He wanted to hate the Princess, wanted to hate her for having the money and privilege he never did, but Bellamy was finding that each day made it harder to resent the lonely girl.

When it was time for bed, Sir Blake retreated to the hallway and Harper, the handmaiden, went to help Clarke get dressed. She exited a few moments later, and Bellamy was left to stand guard the rest of the night. Sometimes he would pace, just to get feeling back in his legs. Sometimes he would shift from foot to foot or hop up and down, but he never fell asleep.

The opening of the door at his back startled him and a hand immediately went to his sword pommel. He turned, ready for an attack, but all he saw was Clarke. She was in her nightgown, a flimsy white thing, which Bellamy felt he really shouldn’t be seeing her in. Her hair was braided down her back, long and golden, and her eyes were bright and wild. It was hours after she had gone to bed, but she was very much awake.

“What’s wrong?” Bellamy asked, scanning the shadows behind her for a threat.

“Nothing, I just wanted to ask you something.” His eyes came back to her. What was she doing awake so late? He assessed the girl once more, this time noting something new. She was sweating. Beads of moisture gathered at her forehead, and her hair had begun to curl near her temple from the wetness, and on her nightgown too he could see patches of sweat.

“Why are you sweating?”

Clarke looked startled, “Oh, uh, bad dream.” He raised an eyebrow, not buying it.

She grimaced, “I told you that you can call me Clarke, but you didn’t tell me your name.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened.

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.”

She put her hands on her hips and gave Bellamy a dirty look. “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s appropriate,” she paused, rethinking her strategy, “I won’t call you by name in front of anyone else.”

Bellamy took a second to think. What could it hurt? It’s not like the girl talked to anyone besides Wells Jaha anyways.

“My name is Bellamy.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke repeated softly. Hearing her say his name made Bellamy stiffen. No royal or highborn had even said his first name before.

“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said with a laugh, “it suits you.” He didn’t know what she meant, but he didn’t get a chance to ask.

“Goodnight, Bellamy,” and the Princess shut the door. What on Earth had just happened?  
 


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Sir Blake and Clarke went to the stables like she’d suggested. She was wearing a plain light blue dress that resembled a thick version of her nightgown. Her blonde hair was in a long braid, tied back with a black ribbon. They walked side by side, Clarke swinging her arms and breathing in the cool air and Bellamy watching her out of the corner of his eye, noting a smile on her lips.

“Princess?”

“I told you not to call me that, _Bellamy _,” her bright eyes lifted to him.__

 __“__ Fine. _Clarke_ , before you meet my sister I just want you to know that she can be a bit… enthusiastic sometimes.”

“So she’s nothing like you,” Clarke said, blunt.

“Right,” he said grimacing to hide a smile.

They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the stables. The smell of horse and manure became stronger the closer they got. Clarke was prodding Bellamy for details about Octavia when they rounded the corner. He was about to reply, giving another short gruff answer, when he stopped short. The color drained from his face and Clarke quickly looked around to see what had caused it. Oh.

Octavia was on a horse in the center of the training corral, black hair blowing in the wind and green eyes bright. She was laughing, looking beautiful and wild. That wasn’t the only thing going on though, and Clarke blinked a few times, making sure she wasn’t seeing things. Lincoln was on the ground below her, smiling, his hand spread out widely on her thigh. Bellamy and Clarke watched in stunned silence as Octavia leaned down and kissed him.

Clarke’s head snapped to Bellamy. The color had returned to his face, in fact he was flushed red, and she watched as his eyes darken to pools of black. _Uh oh_.

“O!” Bellamy shouted, striding forward, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Bellamy?” Octavia screeched, eyes wide as she practically fell off the horse. Lincoln steadied her with a hand on the waist and turned to see Sir Blake stalking towards him.

“Why the fuck are you touching my sister?” Bellamy vaulted over the corral fence, landing with a thud and rushing Lincoln. Clarke scampered after him.

“Oh, you must be, Bellamy,” Lincoln said calmly, reaching a hand out to shake the knight’s. _Big mistake_ , Clarke thought, clambering up the fence after Bellamy as fast as she could. Lincoln never saw it coming. Bellamy’s fist hit him square in the jaw, hard, and his head jerked back violently. Dust billowed as his big body collapsed to the ground.

“Lincoln!” Octavia cried, throwing her leg over the horse and dropping to the ground. Clarke had made it over the fence, finally, and ran to catch up.

“What the fuck, Bellamy!” Octavia cried, cradling Lincoln’s head. Bellamy reached down to grab his sister by the arm, but Clarke shoved her way in between them.

“Hey! Back up!” she growled, pushing Sir Blake in the chest forcefully. He stumbled back, surprised by her strength.

“This isn’t any of your business, Princess,” he snarled and went to move forward, but Clarke dug her heels in.

“Bellamy Blake, don’t take another fucking step.” The venom in her voice made him pause. He glared at her, but she seemed unfazed. Who did she think she was to get in the middle of this? That was his _sister_.

“Octavia, is Lincoln okay?” Clarke said, keeping her glare on the knight, willing him to stay still.

“You know him?” Bellamy asked incredulously, but she ignored him.

“I’m fine, Clarke. Just didn’t see that coming.”

Hesitantly, Clarke looked over her shoulder and saw that Lincoln was standing, rubbing his jaw with a wince. Octavia put a supportive hand on his shoulder, making Bellamy’s chest rumble under Clarke’s hand.

“Octavia,” Clarke snapped, “Now might not be the best time to touch Lincoln.”

She quickly withdrew her hand, looking startled that Clarke had addressed her. She hadn’t even realized the Princess was here in all the commotion.

“Why the hell would you do that, Bellamy?” Octavia’s mood quickly shifted when she looked at her brother.

“He was kissing you!”

“Actually, I was kissing him!” the younger Blake yelled back.

Bellamy’s voice only got louder, “You’re fifteen, Octavia! He’s too old for you!”

She crossed her arms defiantly and Clarke was suddenly struck by how similar the two siblings looked. How many times had Sir Blake made the same stubborn face or crossed his arms indignantly?

“I don’t care how old he is and he doesn’t care how old I am.”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Bellamy said with a harsh laugh. “You’re young and impressionable. He only wants one thing.”

Octavia gasped, “Take that back, you ass! Lincoln cares about me.”

Bellamy just rolled his eyes, “That’s what he tells you.”

Clarke had had just about enough. She withdrew her hand from Sir Blake’s chest and stepped so that she was more in the middle of the siblings. “Alright, stop it. Both of you.”

“Princess, you can’t seriously expect me to be okay with this.”

“I never said you had to be, but right now, you’re going to apologize for hitting Lincoln. Then, you and Octavia can have a nice long talk while I make sure he doesn’t have a head injury.”

Bellamy crossed his arms, “I’m not apologizing.” Clarke wanted to laugh. Her knight looked like a toddler that was just told ‘no’. But he wasn’t, he was a grown man acting like a child.

“Yes you are.”

Bellamy turned his fuming gaze on her, but she just raised a brow, unperturbed. He was going to apologize if she had to open his mouth and yank on his tongue to do it. The heated staring match lasted a minute before someone coughed pointedly.

“No, Clarke, its fine. I would’ve punch me too if I was him.”

Clarke turned, giving Lincoln a baffled look. Was he seriously defending Bellamy for punching him? Lincoln stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. Clarke huffed, rolling her eyes. God, men were idiots.

“Fine, whatever, but come over here so I can look at your jaw.”

They could feel Sir Blake’s glare boring into their backs as Clarke stomped over to the corral gate with Lincoln in tow.

She ordered Lincoln to take a seat on a nearby stump and began her examination. Out of the corner of their eyes, they watched Bellamy and Octavia having a hushed discussion, waving their arms and snarling at each other.

“What were you thinking, Lincoln?” Clarke said, exasperated, as she leaned down to peer into his eyes, checking for pupil dilation.

He gave her a sheepish grin, “I guess I wasn’t. Octavia is right though, Clarke. I really do like her.”

She pulled back to give him an appraising look. He looked sincere and Lincoln was a good man, one of the best. He wouldn’t take advantage of a young girl and if he said he liked Octavia, then he meant it.

“Okay, but Bellamy is never going to approve.”

Lincoln’s eyes slid to the knight. “He might. Eventually.”

Clarke snorted. She’d only known him for a short time, but she’d already figured out that Sir Blake was stubborn. She also knew that Sir Blake loved his sister more than anything in the world. He wouldn’t have brought her to the castle with him otherwise. Not to mention how happy he looked every time he’d talked about her. If Lincoln wanted to be with Octavia, he had his work cut out for him.

She finished her exam, just as the Blake’s finished their hushed argument. Lincoln was fine, just a bruised jaw. The Blake’s were walking over to meet Clarke and Lincoln, neither looking happy. Bellamy was glaring at Lincoln with murder in his eyes, and Octavia was giving Bellamy the same look.

“So,” Clarke clapped her hands together, and tried not to laugh, “Who wants to go for a ride?”

 

 

Lincoln had decided to stay behind while they went for a ride. Decided might be a loose term. Bellamy glared at him, hand on his sword, and Clarke had given him a pointed look. She wasn’t really in the mood to clean up any blood today.

“So, Octavia, how are you liking the stables?”

“I love them,” she smiled, but Bellamy only snorted. It was more like she loved a certain tall, well built, dark man.

The girls ignored him. “Good,” Clarke said, “Do you miss home?”

“Not really. We didn’t live that far from here, but the room we have now is much nicer.”

Clarke nodded. “What do your parents think of Sir Blake’s new job?”

Apparently, that was the wrong question. Octavia’s shoulders stiffened and she shot her brother a pleading look. Clarke immediately wished she could take it back. 

“Our parents are dead,” Octavia said, small. Clarke looked to Bellamy, but he was staring straight-ahead, jaw clenched.

 _Stupid, Clarke,_ she cursed herself. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. We never knew our fathers and our mother wasn’t the best parent…”

“Octavia…” Bellamy warned.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You didn’t know,” Octavia lifted her shoulders, “I got really lucky. Bell took care of me my whole life. That’s why he brought me with him to the castle, so I wasn’t alone.”

Bellamy was glaring now, trying to shut Octavia up. The Princess didn’t want to hear his sob story and he definitely didn’t want her pity. But Octavia never kept her mouth shut when she should.

“He does seem pretty protective,” Clarke commented with a small smile.

Octavia laughed, more a bark than anything. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“I guess it’s good that’s literally his job.”

“I’m right here,” Bellamy grumbled. They were talking about him like he wasn’t even there!

The girls giggled and Clarke decided she liked Octavia. She was young and full of energy, the polar opposite of Sir Blake. Not to mention, she liked giving her brother a hard time. Bellamy seemed peeved that the two girls were getting along so well, and at his expense no less.

 

 

Every few days they would take a trip to the stables to ride and visit with Octavia. Clarke would try to give Lincoln a warning of when they were coming, so he would be far away when Bellamy got there.

Sometimes he hung around for a while, talking, trying to ignore the way Bellamy stared at him. Clarke always ran a buffer between the two and Octavia would send her appreciative glances. When they were out in the woods and away from the castle, Sir Blake seemed to relax. He wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, wary of attackers. Clarke, too, loved the fresh air and peacefulness. 

Surprisingly, Sir Blake actually had a sense of humor, even if it was wry and sarcastic.

Clarke's heart ached every time she saw the way he looked at his sister. Octavia was the most wonderful person in the world to Bellamy and nothing could convince Clarke otherwise.

“So, Princess, you ready for the ball tonight?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, steering her horse towards the nearby hill. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“There’s a ball?!” Octavia’s eyes were bright.

“My mom hosts a ball every month. Its not a big deal really.”

But that’s all Octavia talked about the rest of day. By the end, Bellamy was ready to strangle her and Clarke was feeling guilty. 

“O, you’re not going to the ball.”

She pouted.

“I’ll invite you to the next one, Octavia, I promise,” Clarke vowed, earning a cheer from the young girl. 


	7. Chapter 7

When Clarke opened her door, Bellamy balked. The dark blue of her dress made her pale skin stand out and her blonde hair was pulled up with intricate braids. Harper had done Clarke’s makeup heavier than unusual, but it made the girl’s blue eyes stand out. The tiara on her head was the icing on the cake. She looked stunning. 

“You might want to close your mouth, Sir Blake,” Clarke smirked. His jaw clicked shut.

“Princess,” he bowed, trying to hid his blush. When he rose, she was still grinning.

“You look beautiful,” he told her. There was no point in not giving the compliment- she’d already noticed him staring. Clarke’s smile brightened and he offered her his arm. Together, they made their way down the staircase.

Bellamy and Clarke approached the ballroom door as the party was in full swing. Clarke had insisted on showing up late, to be there as little time as possible she had said. Bellamy knew that was part of it, but the other part was she wanted to piss her mom off.

At the door, Clarke unhooked her hand from the crook of Bellamy’s arm and stepped forward. He straightened, going into knight mode immediately. Tonight, he was wearing his full uniform. The dress pants were itchy and the shirt a tad too tight, but he knew he looked presentable.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Clarke gave him a wry look. She was turning on Princess mode too. Transforming from sarcastic and feisty Clarke into Princess Clarke, the perfect picture of class and beauty.

 

Clarke was sipping on her second glass of wine. She stood in a group of young women who were chatting and giggling like schoolgirls. Bellamy didn’t realize how much he had learned about the girl until that moment. He watched her laugh with the girls, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She rolled her eyes at appropriate times, but the motion was half hearted. Bellamy even noticed how her eyes glazed over each time a new girl began to talk. Clarke was playing her role, and doing it well, but she wasn’t actually happy.

After a few more laughs, the girls parted and Clarke came to stand by Bellamy. Her glass was empty and she quickly replaced it with a full one from a passing server’s tray.

“You better slow down, Princess,” Bellamy eyed her. She took a large gulp, practically drinking half the glass and then turned to give Bellamy a challenging look.

“Are you telling me what to do, Sir Blake?” He noted the flush in her cheeks from drinking and the slight redness in the whites of her eyes.

“Not at all, Princess. I just don’t want to have to carry you up all those steps at the end of the night.” Clarke went to take another sip but paused.

She brought the drink down from her lips and gulped, “You’re right.”

“I think I must be hearing things… Did you just say I’m right?” he bumped her shoulder playfully. The action surprised him. What was he doing touching the Princess in the middle of a ball? Was he flirting? Clarke didn’t seem to mind though.

She gave him a grin, “I said you’re right, but don’t get a big head about it,” suddenly her smile faded, “It would be embarrassing having you try to carry me.”

The comment confused him. Try to carry her? He was pretty sure he could carry Clarke up and down the stairs three times before needing a break.

“What do you mean _try_ , Princess? Don’t think I’m strong enough?”

“No!” she said turning towards him and raising her hands in protest, “I know you’re plenty strong, it’s just that I am…” she gestured down her body.

“You’re what?” Bellamy was angry now. She couldn’t be implying what he thought she was implying.

“Never mind,” Clarke said shaking her head and turning away.

“No, Clarke,” he grabbed her shoulder and turned her back, “You’re what?”

She swallowed, her wide blue eyes lifting to meet his. “I’m big, Bellamy. It would be embarrassing, because you would have a hard time lifting me.”

He flinched back as if stung. Clarke was short, shorter than most women he had been with. And of course she had curves. Great ones. Her hips filled out the dress no problem. Not to mention that looking at her breasts in that dress made his face flush. He had walked in one time when she was changing and seen her bare legs, which were soft and yes, thick, but he could tell they were strong. How could Clarke ever think she was too heavy to carry?

“Clarke, listen to me, you are not big and you are not heavy. Just because you aren’t skinny, doesn’t mean you aren’t gorgeous.” Her eyes started to glass over, but she quickly wiped at them.

“I don’t look like other girls, Bellamy.” His heart clenched at her words. She was right. He just hated the idea that Clarke thought that meant she wasn’t as good.

“Why does that matter?”

She shook her head, turning away. Her mother was calling for her and Bellamy saw Clarke’s face frost over, all emotion gone. She stepped away towards the Queen and duty required that he follow.

 

The party was winding down. Clarke had spoken to her mother a few times, not even pretending to enjoy the conversations. He knew that made the Queen angry. Why couldn’t Clarke at least act happy to save face? But Clarke was doing it on purpose to make sure her mother knew she wasn’t going to play that game.

Clarke was a few feet away from him, speaking softy to Wells, when he saw a young man approaching. This had been happening all night. Young suitors lined up to dance with the Princess. Each time, Clarke would nod and oblige, but during the dance she refused to talk and would barely make eye contact. Once or twice, Bellamy watched as Clarke purposely stepped on their toes or messed up the dance. It made the men uncomfortable and none of them asked for a second. Bellamy smiled at the thought of the Ice Princess warding off men without a single word.

Something about this man was different, though. He was young, probably about Clarke’s age, and he had long black hair. He walked, no strutted, in a way none of the other men had done. Wells’ hand tightened around his glass and Clarke’s shoulders stiffened when Wells whispered something in her ear. Bellamy instantly took a step closer to hear what they were saying.

“- not throw that drink in his face, Clarke,” Wells hissed.

The man was in front of them now.

“Hey, Princess.” The man bowed, his eyes trained on Clarke the whole time.

“Finn,” she said curtly.

“You look wonderful tonight, Clarke,” his eyes roamed her body appreciatively, “I think you’ve gotten smaller.”

Bellamy blinked rapidly. Had he heard that right? Who the hell did this guy think he was? One look at Clarke’s red cheeks and he knew that Finn was part of the reason she felt self conscious about herself. What kind of ugly things had he said to Clarke about her body? Finn said she looked smaller than before. Of that, Bellamy couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t known her long enough to notice if she’d lost weight. For the life of him, Bellamy couldn’t see Clarke as anything other than beautiful. Except maybe irritating. Even heavier than she was right now, Clarke would still be a sight for sore eyes.

“Thanks, Finn. You look good too. Single life suits you,” Clarke gave him a sweet smile and sipped her drink. Bellamy wasn’t sure the meaning behind her words, but Finn’s face tightened. It sounded like an underhanded compliment.

Suddenly the man wasn’t so cocky anymore, in fact he turned down right pitiful. “Clarke, please. I still love you. I came here tonight to try and win you back.”

Bellamy gaped, but the statement didn’t seem to faze the Princess. “You still love me?”

“Yes, Clarke. I do. I always have. I even told Raven.”

Clarke laughed, a cold harsh bark. “Did you tell her that before or after I walked in on you with your head between her legs?”

Bellamy’s eyes swung to Clarke, stunned. _What the hell was he witnessing?_

“Clarke, it’s over between her and I. I promise,” the man begged desperately.

“I think its time for you to go, Collins,” Wells deep voice growled.

“Clarke, please,” Finn pleaded. Bellamy watched Finn move to grab Clarke’s arm to keep her from turning away. He jumped into action, putting himself between Clarke and the pathetic boy.

“Like the man said, leave,” Bellamy placed a hand on his sword pommel threateningly.

Clarke had almost forgotten Bellamy was there and she looked up at him, startled. Oh god, he’d just heard everything she’d said to Finn. She set her drink down on the nearest table, and had to steady herself. She was dizzy with embarrassment.

Finn threw the knight a disgusted look, “Who are you?”

Clarke shook herself out of the humiliation and peeked around Bellamy’s shoulder, “This is Sir Blake, my knight. Now get the fuck out of here Finn, before I decide to beat the shit out of you myself.”

Bellamy smirked, “You heard the Princess.”

Finn looked Bellamy up and down, sizing him up. Bellamy raised a brow. _Try me,_ he thought. He would love nothing more than to beat this boy’s brains in until he got a clue. Finn knew he was hopelessly outgunned, but curled his lip anyway.

“You think if you come to Clarke’s rescue and puff up your chest like that, she’s going to fall in love with you or something? Maybe you’re hoping your pretty face will get her on her back? Good luck. It took me forever and I’m a lord. You're just a pathetic knight,” Finn sneered.

What a dick. Bellamy’s hand gripped the sword harder, but he refused to take the bait.

Clarke, on the other hand, could not believe Finn had just said that. How dare Finn talk about her like she was a whore? He was the one who had been seeing two women at once!

Overcome with anger, Clarke made a move to lunge over Sir Blake.

“You bastard!” she screamed, swinging at Finn. Her arm nearly clobbered Bellamy in the side of the head. Wells rushed to grab her around the waist and hold her back, but not before the fist connected.

“Ah!” The crunch of Finn’s nose breaking was satisfying and he stumbled back, clutching his face. Clarke continued raving in Wells’ arms.

“You’re a son of a bitch, Finn! Fuck you! Wells let me go, I’m going to beat him senseless!”

Finn took a step forward to yell back, but Bellamy had had enough. “Get the fuck out of here, before we let her loose. And when she’s done, I’ll make sure to finish the job,” he gave the smaller man a wicked smile.

Finn’s mouth shut with a click.

The scuffle had drawn the attention of everyone nearby, and Finn looked around the crowd in embarrassment. The Princess had just broken his nose with one swing. He gave the group a final angry and embarrassed look, before turning on his heel and storming off. Bellamy watched him go, thinking about all the other bones he wanted to break.

“Thanks,” Clarke’s quiet voice made him turn. She was straightening her dress with sharp motions. Wells was behind her, doing the same to his clothes. The dark man had sweat on his forehead. Bellamy couldn’t blame him. He would be sweating too if he had to hold Clarke back like that.

“Just doing my job, Princess.”

She nodded, her eyes dropping slightly. There was an awkward moment when no one said anything and he couldn’t help but feel like he had done something wrong.

Clarke eventually turned to Wells, “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Also, I should probably leave before my mom hears about this. Which will be in like thirty seconds.”

“Are you okay, Clarke?” his eyes searched hers. Wells was worried about her and although Bellamy didn’t want to be, he was too.

“I’m fine, Wells. I just can’t believe he said those things about me.”

“Finn is pathetic, Clarke. Don’t let it get to you.” She gave the man a kiss on his cheek and turned to go. Wells gave her a kiss too, his eyes still full of concern.

“Let’s go, Sir Blake.”

Bellamy followed as Clarke stalked out of the room, hands fisted at her side. He tried to ignore the stares of everyone in the crowd as they passed. He had no idea being a body guard could be this exciting.

“Clarke! Clarke!” her mother shouted from near the throne. Clarke either didn’t hear or pretended not to, because she pushed her way through the main doors and past the startled guards without a second glance.

When they finally got to her room, Clarke went to open the door, but paused with her hand on the handle. She took a shuttering breath and turned to Bellamy. He was still a bit in shock from what had just happened and could see that she was still worked up.

“I’m sorry you had to step in like that,” she said. His brown eyes searched hers. She was definitely upset still, but her anger seemed to have been replaced with misery.

“Princess,” he started but she flinched at the word. Finn had called her that as a pet name too, Bellamy realized. “Clarke,” he corrected, “Finn was completely out of line tonight. I wish you’d given him more than just a broken nose.” The image of Clarke socking Finn in the face brought a smile to his face.

Her blue eyes lifted a bit, “Thanks, Bellamy. Though, I wish you hadn’t heard what he said about me.”

Bellamy stuck a finger under her chin, “You deserve so much better, Clarke. No one should ever make you feel like you aren’t good enough just the way you are.”

She searched his face for a moment. He looked so sincere, so earnest. Almost like he actually cared about her. Clarke let her eyes drop to his lips and the sudden urge to kiss him caught her off guard. What the hell was she thinking?

Clarke gulped and took a step back, “Goodnight, Sir Blake.”

His hand dropped from her chin and Clarke swore he almost looked disappointed.

“Goodnight,” he bowed shallowly and Clarke shut the door.

It was hard for her to sleep that night. She lay awake in bed replaying the events of the evening over and over in her head. Finn had been an ass, but punching him had felt good. She no longer pined after the man; she just wanted him out of her life. What really kept her from sleeping was Bellamy’s face right before she said goodnight. He had wanted to kiss her too, she was sure of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Standing outside the Princess’s door that morning, Bellamy began to recall the way she had looked the night before. Her blue eyes popping against the dark blue of the dress and hair perfected pulled up around her tiara. Bellamy tried not to think about how the dress left little to the imagination in terms of Clarke’s curves. She thought she was overweight. Finn made her think she was overweight. Bellamy thought she was perfect. 

Perfect? Wait a minute- hadn’t he loathed her a few weeks ago? Clarke was everything he hated. She was rich and spoiled and royal. And now he thought she was perfect? Get a grip, he told him self. Clarke was not perfect. She was his job. Her beauty was distracting him. He probably just needed to get laid. Bellamy couldn’t think about it anymore, because Harper called out that Clarke was decent. 

He opened the door to find Clarke staring out the widow. Harper was cleaning up the rest of the dishes and gave Bellamy a warm smile. He returned it and Harper went to leave, closing the door behind her as she exited.

Clarke normally wore a gown with embellishments and lace and had her hair in curls, very Princess like. Today, though, she wore a more simple dress, no jewels or special stitching on it, and her hair was pulled up in the front. A cloak was draped around her shoulders and a small brown satchel strapped around her waist. Clarke turned to the knight and he raised his eyebrows in question. 

“I was hoping to go into town today,” she explained.

“Oh, well I can speak to some of the royal guardsmen and have them escort us,” he turned to go ask.

“Wait, Bellamy! Can’t you just do it?” she sounded desperate. Taking the Princess into town without backup was a stupid idea. If something happened, Bellamy would likely be overpowered and Clarke would be in danger. 

“I don’t want to take you by myself, Princess. It’s too risky.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine, but can we at least take some knights that aren’t on the royal guard?”

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows, “Why would we do that?” 

“I’d like to go into town without everyone staring at me,” she said quietly. Finally, Bellamy understood what she was asking. Clarke wanted to go into town without everyone knowing she was the Princess. That’s why she was dressed like a commoner and why she didn’t want the royal guard escorting her. 

Bellamy didn’t like the idea, but he knew Clarke felt trapped in the castle. He understood her desire to be a normal person, to go into town without fanfare. So, he begrudgingly agreed, “I’ll see what I can do. Stay here until I come back, got it?”

Immediately, her face lit up, a brilliantly smile spreading across her cheeks, “Thank you, Bellamy.” She clutched her hands in excitement and Bellamy gave her a final once over before leaving. He didn’t think he’d every seen her so happy. 

“Don’t go anywhere, Clarke,” he said seriously.

“I wont. I promise.” 

 

Bellamy arrived back at her door an hour later, “Alright, lets go.”

Clarke popped up from where she was drawing at the table and adjusted her cloak. She stopped when she saw Bellamy was alone. 

“I thought you were bringing some more knights.”

He ushered her out the door, “They’re outside, waiting. Come on, Princess.” 

When they got outside, Bellamy led her to a group of three men. They were all dressed in plain shirts and pants with swords belted around their waists. They looked like Bellamy when he had first walked into court with Kane and Octavia. 

The three men stopped talking when they approached.

“Clarke, this is Jasper, Monty, and Murphy. Guys, this is Clarke.” She nodded to each of them. 

“Tell me why we are escorting her into town again?” Murphy raised an eyebrow at Bellamy.

“She’s new to the castle, working in the kitchens. She asked me to show her around, but didn’t really feel safe going into town without an escort.” Clarke gave Bellamy a startled look. Why hadn’t he told them she was the Princess? 

Murphy turned his eyes on her. She met them, trying to look innocent. He looked her up and down, lingering a little too long on her chest. For a second, she thought she was going to have to call him out on it, but then he huffed and looked away, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ve never seen her before,” the tallest man said. Jasper, Clarke thought Bellamy had called him.

“That’s because she’s new, dumbass,” the smaller Asian man said and punched Jasper on the shoulder. That was Monty. 

Clarke wasn’t so sure about these men. They didn’t look like much, but Bellamy seemed to know them personally. She assumed they were all knights, even if they didn’t look like it. Friends, Clarke realized, these were Bellamy’s friends. 

“Can we go, now?” she looked up at Bellamy, hopeful. 

He smirked, “Of course,” then turned to address the three other men, “Let’s go, guys.” 

So, they set off in the direction of the market. Bellamy stayed close to Clarke and Monty took her other side. Jasper’s long legs kept him in front of the group as they walked. Murphy didn’t even acknowledge her presence, stalking slightly ahead of Bellamy. The men laughed and joked the whole way there. Clarke even found herself giggling a few times at Jasper and Monty’s banter. She liked Bellamy’s friends; what’s more, she was happy. Clarke had not felt this free in a long time.

Monty was asking Clarke about her new job when they reached the edge of the market. She gave him a vague reply and turned her attention to the bustling streets and noisy crowds. Sure, she had been here before, but people had always recognized her as the Princess. She’d never gotten to actually enjoy it. 

Clarke pushed past Jasper into the busy street, no longer content to follow behind him. Bellamy growled her name under his breath, but she was too lost in the experience to care. The men followed as Clarke darted around. She ran her hand through the colorful cloths, smelled soaps and chatted happily with vendors. Her smile never left her face. 

They were almost to the end of the street when Clarke’s stomach growled. She turned back to the men, who all looked rather bored and rather annoyed at having to follow her around all day. 

“Let’s get something to eat.” 

They perked up immediately and Clarke rolled her eyes. Men. She weaved her way in and out of a group of people, towards the delicious smelling stand she had caught a whiff of earlier. The knights were left to follow, Bellamy grumping the entire way. 

He felt like he was chasing a loose cat around the market. She slipped in between people, glanced curiously at everything around her, and scurried away to the next booth without him noticing. It was infuriating. But even Bellamy couldn’t deny that the cheerful look on her face made his heart happy. 

The food was delicious and hot. Better, almost, than the food she was served in the castle. The knights couldn’t help but stare at her as she ate. Bellamy just laughed under his breath; well aware of how aggressively Clarke ate. 

She was wiping her face of grease when she brought up the real reason she had wanted to go into town, “Do any of you know where the Sinclair’s Blacksmithing is?”

Bellamy gave her a weird look that she ignored, sort of the same way Murphy was ignoring her. 

“It’s near the bakery on the corner,” Monty said helpfully. 

“Thanks,” she smiled at the kind knight, “I just need to stop in there and then we can go back.”

Murphy spoke for the first time since leaving the castle, “Why do you need to go to a blacksmith? You’re a girl.”

Clarke bristled, and Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. She was up to something, he could tell. 

“How observant of you. Are girls not allowed in blacksmithing shops?” 

“No, but-” Murphy started but Clarke didn’t let him finish.

“Good, then it’s really none of your business, is it?” Bellamy, Monty, and Jasper looked between the two of them with raised eyebrows. Bellamy could count on one hand the amount of women who had ever stood up to John Murphy, and one of them was Murphy’s current fling. 

They finished their food in silence. Murphy glaring and Clarke pretending not to notice.


	9. Chapter 9

Bellamy and Clarke entered the blacksmith’s shop and immediately had to pause to let their eyes adjust. Clarke had insisted the other knights stand outside instead of coming in with her. They gave her curious looks, but didn’t argue. She hadn’t even thought about asking Bellamy to stay outside, knowing he would never do it. 

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice called. An older man with tan skin and salt and pepper hair stepped out from the shadows. He was holding a hot poker and his clothes were covered in black soot. 

“Actually, I was hoping to speak to your apprentice,” Clarke said sweetly. Bellamy watched as the man gave them a strange look. He was sure it was an interesting sight. Clarke- a beautiful young lady with wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes- standing confidently in a place women rarely stepped foot in. If only the man knew that she was really the Princess and he was a royal knight. 

The man raised his eyebrows and shouted, “Raven! Someone is here to see you.” Bellamy stiffened. Raven? Why did that name sound familiar?

A small limping figure emerged from the back, ponytail swinging, “Sinclair? Who’s here?”

The blacksmith shrugged and pointed towards Clarke and Bellamy. The girl gave the man a pat on the shoulder and approached them. As she came into the light, Bellamy realized why her name sounded familiar. Shit. 

“Bellamy?” the girl questioned, recognizing him, “What are you doing here?” 

Bellamy was flustered, “Raven, I had no idea-.” Just then a shout came from the back of the store.

“Ray! Please don’t run away from me like that. I was trying to apologize,” the source of the voice can into view a moment later. Finn Collins. All thoughts of Raven left his mind and Clarke ground her teeth next to him. 

Finn marched towards Raven, not yet noticing who else was in the shop.

“Ray, please, I – ” he stopped cold. 

From the corner of his eye, Bellamy watched Clarke narrow her eyes, but kept most of his attention on the imbecile of a man in front of them. 

“Clarke, what are you doing here?” Finn’s voice was high and Raven swung her attention to the blonde for the first time.

“Clarke! You’re Clarke? What the fuck are you doing here? Come to take your stolen man back?” her voice was full of disgust. 

“No, actually I came to talk to you. I had no idea he would be here,” she threw Finn a withering look. 

Raven rolled her eyes, not believing it, while Finn took a step forwards, “Clarke, I need to apologize for last night. I’m so sorry. I acted like a complete ass and-”

“Enough,” Clarke snapped, “I don’t want to hear it anymore, Finn. Did me punching you in the face not clue you in? Would you like me to try again?” Bellamy popped out a hand to keep Clarke from getting any closer. Her hands had been balled into fists as she talked and Bellamy was afraid one more step and she’d be swinging. 

He refrained from say anything yet. This was Clarke’s fight, not his, and he would interfere if necessary. Plus, he wasn’t sure he wanted to put himself in between Finn and Clarke again. Last night he’d almost gotten hit in the crossfire. 

“You’re the one who broke his nose?” Raven gasped, eyes wide. The Princess gave a stiff nod.

Raven turned on Finn, “You told me you got into a drunken fight!” 

He dropped his eyes, embarrassed. Bruising had begun forming under his eyes and his nose was tilted in the wrong direction. It was worse than Bellamy originally thought. Clarke had done a number on him. 

“The Princess, broke your nose?” Raven continued, looking like she wanted to strike him too. Bellamy couldn’t blame her. 

“I can explain,” Finn began, but Raven had had enough. 

“Leave. Now.” 

Finn opened his mouth to argue, but Clarke stepped up next to Raven, “Get the fuck out of here Finn, before I knee you in the crotch so hard you wont be able to see straight.” 

Bellamy blanched at the threat. Had his Princess really just said that? Even Raven gave her a sidelong glance. 

Finn looked at the two women in front of him and knew it was a losing game. Together, they glared as he slinked out of the shop and onto the crowed street. Bellamy hadn’t even said a word. They had taken care of the sniveling bastard all by themselves. 

“Well that was interesting,” Raven turned to Clarke, “If you’re not here for Finn, what are you doing here, Princess?” Bellamy didn’t like the way she was talking to her, but Clarke seemed to brush it off. 

“Sir Blake, can you leave us please?” He gave her a look that said ‘uh, hell no’. 

“What are you doing here anyways, Blake? You get put on Princess duty?” The comment was snide, obviously showing her distaste. 

Clarke wondered how Raven and Sir Blake knew each other. When they had first walked in, Raven seemed to recognize Bellamy right away, even called him by first name. Maybe they had been seeing each other. The thought made Clarke suddenly jealous. Bellamy and Raven together? First Finn, and now her knight… Clarke shoved the feeling away. There was no reason to be jealous; it wasn’t like Bellamy was hers anyway. He could do what and whom he pleased. 

“Yeah, Reeves, I’m a royal guard now.” 

Raven snorted, “That sucks.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke watched for Bellamy’s response. He nodded in agreement and something seemed to wedge itself in Clarke’s throat. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to be her bodyguard and she hadn’t wanted it either. But lately, she hated it less and less. She no longer had to eat alone in her room, or walk the castle by herself. Bellamy stood silently over her shoulder while she drew and then would tell her how great the pieces came out, or how terrible. He had even started to crack jokes. 

It seemed though, that he hadn’t changed his mind. He thought it sucked being her personal knight. Clarke steeled her face, not letting Raven or Bellamy see the hurt she felt. 

“Sir Blake, leave us,” she demanded harshly. If he hated being her personal guard so much, then she might as well treat him like a regular knight. And regular knights had to follow her orders. 

Bellamy looked at Clarke’s cold eyes, startled. Why was her anger for Finn now turned on him? 

“I am here to protect you, Princess.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, “And what’s going to hurt me in here? The woman who hates me, the pits of fire, or the hundreds of weapons on the walls?” 

Bellamy clenched his jaw, not liking this at all or the way she was joking about her safety. But Clarke had never given him an order like that before. She’d always asked him politely to take her places or step away. This was different. 

Bellamy turned his unhappy gaze on Raven, “If you hurt her, I’ll be forced to kill you.” 

Raven huffed a laugh, “I’m not gonna touch her.” He stormed off out of the shop, mumbling angrily under his breath and Clarke seemed to relax as soon as he was gone. 

“Now that we are alone, tell me what you want, Clarke.” 

“First, I want to apologize,” she met Raven’s eyes, “I didn’t know Finn was with you until that day I walked in on you two…” Clarke shook her head to get rid of the memory. “Anyway, I want to say that I am sorry Finn cheated on you with me. I had no idea and if I had, I would’ve left him right away.”

Raven was caught off guard by the apology. Were Princess’s supposed to say they were sorry? 

“You didn’t know?” 

Clarke shook her head, “I was clueless.” A silent moment passed. 

“Ugh, dammit!” Raven slammed a fist into the sword holder next to her, making Clarke jump.

“What?” 

“Why did you have to be so cool?” Raven muttered angrily. Clarke bunched her eyebrows. What was Raven talking about?

“I was so ready to hate you. I did hate you. As soon as you walked in on me and Finn and he told me the truth, I hated you. He was fucking the Princess, for god sakes, how could I not? But then you came in here all badass and I find out you’re the one who broke his nose… and I am just mad that you’re cool. It would be much easier to hate you if weren’t.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. Raven thought she was cool? 

“Are you kidding me, Raven? You’re the one that’s awesome. You work in a job where there are no other women, and from what I hear you’re great at it. You have a disability, but you don’t let it stop you. You’re beautiful and smart and I know if I hadn’t already punched Finn, you would’ve just done it today. I never hated you. How could I?”

They held each other’s gazes for a minute, until Raven cracked a smile. Clarke smiled back and before long the two women were laughing hysterically. Did they just become friends after sleeping with the same man? It was at least five minutes later before they could compose themselves. 

“I do have another reason I came here,” Clarke said wiping away a tear.

Raven was seated on the nearest bench, holding her stomach in pain, “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“I have a favor to ask you.” Raven’s eyebrows shot up, all laughter gone. What could she possibly do for a Princess? 

Clarke continued, “I was wondering if you could make a custom weapon? I’ll pay you, I promise. It’s just, I heard you were one of the best sword makers in the kingdom and I was hoping you could help.” 

Raven noted the nervous cadence in Clarke’s voice, “What kind of sword, Princess?” 

Clarke took off her cloak and set it down, then went to the satchel at her waist and pulled out a lump of paper. She began unfolding the papers and spreading them out for Raven to see.

“I was hoping you could make something that was a bit lighter than a regular sword. It still needs to be as long, so that someone can attack from a safe distance, but maybe less wide?”

Raven looked down at the drawings. They were incredibly detailed, down to designs on the pommel, “Did you draw these?”

Clarke nodded and Raven continued to peer down at them. There were over ten different variations, all of them smaller or thinner than a regular sword. Some curved, others oddly shaped. 

“This sword is for you, isn’t it Clarke?” 

“Yes,” she saw no point in lying. 

Raven shook her head slowly and then straightened after picking up the drawing she liked best.

“I should be able to make something like this no problem. But just one question. Why does a princess need a sword?”

She met Raven’s eyes, “The men who killed my father are coming to kill me too.” 

The darker girl was startled by Clarke’s words. She blinked at the Princess, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. Clarke looked serious, her blue eyes unwavering. There was no hint of humor in her features. She really thought someone was trying to kill her. 

Eventually Raven nodded, “Do you know how to use a sword at least?” 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. If only she knew. 

“I’m learning.”

“Alright,” Raven still sounded skeptical, “Well, I can have this made in a week or so. You mind if I make a few adjustments?”

Clarke began collecting the extra scraps of paper and stuffing them back in her bag, “I was hoping you would.”

Raven folded the piece of paper and put it in her pocket, looking up to meet Clarke’s eyes. 

“Thank you, Raven.”

“You’re welcome, Clarke.” The blonde turned to go, but suddenly Raven had an idea. 

“Clarke, wait!” and the girl halted. Raven limped to the far side of the shop and studied the wall of weapons carefully, until finally deciding on two. She presented them to Clarke whose blue eyes lit when she saw the items. 

“I can’t get you your sword until next week, but that doesn’t mean you should be unarmed until then.” 

The knives in Raven’s hands looked like candy to Clarke. She reached out to take them, weighing them carefully in her palm. They were perfect. Not too long and not to heavy, easy to conceal. 

“Here,” Raven said, grabbing a leather strap from the work bench, “Lift your dress.” 

Clarke did as she was told, curiously watching as Raven ducked under the skirt. She felt a cold material on her thigh, then a sliding and a tightening. Looking like a headless woman, Raven stuck a hand out from under the dress. Clarke handed the girl one of the knives without having to be told to do so and Raven quickly slid it under the leather strap.

“There,” she said popping out from under Clarke’s dress, “Now you’ll be able to carry it all the time.”

“Thank you, Raven, really.” Clarke took a few steps, getting used to the feeling of the leather strap around her leg. She stuffed the other knife into her bag, knowing she would have to find a better spot for it later. 

Raven shrugged, “Of course, Princess. I don’t want you dying before I have the opportunity to make you your fancy new sword.”

Clarke laughed and opened her mouth to say more just as someone walked into the store.

“Clarke, its time to go,” Bellamy’s voice was gruff behind them. 

“You ever try smiling, Blake?” Raven called back. Bellamy ignored her and gave Clarke an expectant look. 

She turned to the dark haired girl one more time, whispering, “How do you know Sir Blake?”

Raven laughed, “We met in a tavern a month back. I was drunk as a skunk. It was right after I found out about you and Finn… ” She didn’t need to say anymore, Clarke understood. They had slept together. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he was great for one night, but there was nothing there emotionally,” Raven shrugged. The jealousy Clarke felt earlier came back with a vengeance. It felt like a punch to the gut. There was nothing she could say or do, without giving away her feelings. So, Clarke nodded, thanked Raven once more and then followed Bellamy out into the street. 

“What was that all about?” Bellamy asked.

“Nothing.” 

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t press. Clarke and Raven had been smiling at each other a moment ago. Now, Clarke was snapping at him for no apparent reason. 

“Hey, Clarke!” Bellamy and Clarke turned at the shout. Raven stood in the entryway of the shop. She still had more to say, apparently. 

“I know I was up under your dress, but I didn’t think that would distract you enough to forget your clothes,” she winked, holding out the cloak Clarke had taken off. Clarke rolled her eyes and retrieved it. Immediately, all four knights’ full attention was on Clarke and Raven. 

“Did I just hear that right?” Jasper squeaked. 

“I think she just said she was under her dress,” Monty murmured.

“Now that’s something I would pay to see,” Murphy drawled. 

“Careful, Reeves,” Clarke winked back at the girl, “It almost sounds like you’re flirting with me and I like girls too.”

The words were out, before she could think it through. Clarke clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Had she really just said that? Raven stiffened and all of the men jerked their attention to Clarke.

“Seriously?” Raven asked. Clarke dropped the hand from her mouth, suddenly very nervous. Everyone was staring at her. Oh god, what had she done? She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Only Wells and her mother knew. Oh, and Lexa… 

Clarke cleared her throat, “Uh, yes, I am serious.” She busied herself with putting the cloak back on, avoiding their stares. 

“Does your mom know?” 

It didn’t seem to disgust Raven the same way it did some people. For which, Clarke was grateful. Yes, she liked men, but she liked women too. It wasn’t something Clarke had chosen for herself or could control. 

Clarke licked her lips, just now allowing herself to look at the knights, “I told her a few years ago. She said I needed to get over it and if I couldn’t, she would have me sent away.” 

Raven’s eyes folded to concern. Everyone else had some form of astonished look on their face. Bellamy’s eyes were wide as dinner plates, and Jasper and Monty both had their jaws on the floor. Convinced he would be repulsed, Clarke couldn’t even gather the courage to look at Murphy. 

She continued, not allowing any emotion into her words, “My mother said that if she ever caught me acting on it, she would have me and the other woman hung for inhuman behavior.” 

Tears were threatening to leak out of Clarke’s eyes, but she blinked them away. The stab of her mother’s words still felt fresh. Now she had revealed one of her biggest secrets to a group of strangers, save Bellamy. Crying would only make her seem weirder. 

The six of them stood silent as people scuttled around on the busy road. It was Bellamy who spoke first. 

His voice was low and unsteady, “We should go.” 

The hood of the cloak allowed Clarke some protection from their stares, so she lifted it onto her head, and waved goodbye to Raven. The girl returned the wave, but it was halfhearted. Her mind was on what Clarke had just said, unable to fully process anything else. 

Bellamy, Jasper, Monty and Murphy made there way back through the market. This time, Clarke stayed in the back, her head hung in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe that had slipped out like that. She couldn’t believe they all knew what a freak she was now. Would Bellamy ever look at her the same? She thanked the lord he hadn’t told them she was the Princess. For all she knew, one of the knights would go tell her mom what Clarke had let slip and she would be banished. 

 

When they were clear of the town, and its constant noise, their silence became more obvious.

“So, have you ever been with a woman?” Murphy smirked, popping the bubble of quiet. The question surprised Clarke and she gave the man an appraising stare. Was he mocking or joking? She couldn’t tell. 

“Murhpy!” Bellamy turned around aghast.

“I only ask, because I’m sure Emori and I would be more than happy to have you over for- Ow!”

Jasper had smacked Murphy on the back of the head. Murphy grumbled as he rubbed the spot. His eyes were playful though, not taunting. Murphy was joking with her, Clarke realized. 

She raised her eyes to his, “You have a woman? And she willing sleeps with you?” 

“Ouch,” Monty hissed jokingly. 

Murphy snorted, “Don’t sound so surprised, Clarke. I am great in bed!”

Bellamy shoved Murphy forward to keep him moving, “This isn’t appropriate conversation to be having with a lady.” 

“Like you can talk, Blake. You love women! You get laid all the time!” Murphy raised his eyebrows at Bellamy provocatively. Bellamy just growled and put a hand on his sword. Clarke clenched her jaw, not liking what Murphy just said about Bellamy’s habits. Raising his hands in surrender, Murphy turned and kept walking. 

“So, have you?” Jasper asked Clarke a minute later. 

“Jasper!” Bellamy roared. Clarke quit walking and all of the knights stumbled to a stop when they noticed she wasn’t with them. Pulling the hood down, she frowned at the group of men. 

“Let’s get one thing clear. Yes, I am attracted to men and women. However, I am not going to tell any of you if I have ever been with one, because I don’t want to fuel any -what I’m sure are already incredibly perverted- dreams,” she gave Murphy a pointed look. 

“That means you have,” Murphy grinned, showing teeth. Then he had to dodge a hand that came flying his way. Bellamy had swung at him and just narrowly missed. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow at Murphy and smirked. Yes, she had been with a woman before, that didn’t mean they needed to know about it. Better to keep them guessing. 

The conversation changed from Clarke’s sexual preferences to Monty and Jasper’s homemade moonshine. Clarke was grateful for the shift in topic and walked along, enjoying being part of a discussion that wasn’t about her. They reached the castle when it was nearly dark. Murphy, Jasper and Monty said their goodbyes and retreated towards their homes. Bellamy and Clarke were left to walk through the castle grounds together. 

Bellamy couldn’t get a read on Clarke. He had obviously said something to upset her in the blacksmiths shop. Her order still rang clear in his ears. She had never treated him that way before. Then, she had emerged from the shop happy and her and Raven seemed to be getting along. Though, she remained cold to him. Bellamy’s mouth had dropped when Clarke admitted that she liked women. Her face had flushed and she immediately looked like she regretted saying it. His friends hadn’t made it much better on the walk home, but Clarke’s mood seemed to lighten a bit. What bothered him most was that Clarke had refused to meet his eye the entire way home. Was she embarrassed, angry with him, or both?

Now that they were alone, maybe he could ask her. 

“Did I do something wrong today, Clarke?” 

She kept her head down, “What do you mean?”

“Back at Sinclair’s you ordered me away. You were mad and I don’t know what I did to make you angry. Now, you won’t even look at me.”

They were at the castle door now. Bellamy pulled it open and she entered before him silently. He replayed the day over in his mind, wondering what he could’ve said or done wrong. And when in the hell did he start caring how the Princess felt about him? 

Her voice was quiet, “I know you didn’t want this job. I didn’t want anyone guarding me all the time, either. But I felt like it was sort of better than expected...” she trailed off. 

Bellamy knitted his brows, studying the short girl as she walked in front of him. It suddenly dawned on him what he had done to upset her. He had agreed with Raven that being a royal knight sucked. Truth be told, it did. The only thing he actually enjoyed about it was Clarke. 

“Clarke, you know I used to work at the training grounds. I taught men how to be proper swordsmen, ride horses, to be good knights,” he spoke to her back, “I am not used to being a bodyguard. I miss fighting and being outside all day. I miss using my sword.” 

They were almost to her room now and tired of talking to her back, Bellamy lightly put a hand on her shoulder. She paused at the contact and slowly turned. Clarke looked down at him from two stairs up, face blank. He knew she was doing that thing were she went expressionless to avoid showing emotion. It was the same look she often gave her mother. 

“I am sorry I hurt your feelings, Clarke. I don’t hate being your personal knight, I’m just not used to it.” She nodded, but kept her face still as stone. 

“If I had to be a bodyguard for someone, I’m glad its you, Princess.” 

She brightened at that a bit. Clarke rarely revealed how she was feeling and not to anyone but Wells, but in that moment she felt the need to get something off her chest. 

“I know it’s not fair to you, but at least with a bodyguard I’m not so lonely all the time,” she said quietly. Bellamy’s eyes softened. 

He never expected her to be this open with him. Clarke kept her feelings to herself, not like some women he knew. Bellamy really hadn’t understood how much their relationship had grown until that moment. The truth was, he would miss Clarke if he didn’t see her everyday. She was smart and witty and sassy. Not to mention she pushed his buttons like no other. 

They stood still for a moment more, studying each other. Suddenly, Clarke lifted a hand to his temple, but stopped short, not touching him, and Bellamy stiffened. His eyes met hers, wide and confused. She looked down at him, her gaze not as cold as it was minutes ago. In fact, her eyes were wide too. As if she also didn’t know what she was doing. Clarke yanked her hand back down. 

“What was that, Princess?” Bellamy said weakly. She shook her head. What was that? She was just about to brush a curl away from his forehead? What the hell was she thinking? 

“Do you think less of me now that you know I like women?” The question caught him off guard. They both knew that was not what she had been thinking about two seconds ago, but he let it go, wanting also to ignore what had just happened. 

“Of course not. It was surprising, but how could I think less of you for it? If anything, I think its brave.”

“Brave?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, telling your mom was brave, Clarke. Being who you are is brave.” One side of her mouth lifted. 

“I was worried it freaked you out.” 

Bellamy grabbed her hand and held it tight in his grasp, “The only thing that freaks me out is how fast you eat.”

Clarke laughed, brightly, and then they both looked down at their intertwined hands. Her light skin stuck out against his bronze. Bellamy pulled his hand away quickly. What the hell was going on tonight? Clarke turned sharply, practically running up the stairs the rest of the way to her room. 

“You know,” Bellamy’s eyes got serious as they reached her door, “my best friend likes men.”

Clarke blinked in surprise, “Really?” 

He nodded, “He hasn’t told anyone really, but I know.” 

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she smiled up at him and he sucked in a breath, suddenly struck by how beautiful she looked. Her hair was wild around her face, her cheeks flushed from the sun, and blue eyes warm. 

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said taking a step back. 

“Goodnight, Bellamy,” she said, giving him a long look before closing the door.


	10. Chapter 10

“My dad wants to have you over for tea,” Wells said. They were walking through the gardens, following their normal path. 

Thelonius Jaha was a well-respected lord in Arcadia. He was one of the Queens many advisors and Abby took his advice over many others.

“Why?” Clarke asked, wary. If Lord Jaha wanted to have her over, it was for a reason. She wasn’t convinced he hadn’t had anything to do with her father’s death, but she would never express those fears to Wells. It would destroy Wells’ trust and ruin their friendship. 

“He said he wanted to check in with you. Make sure you’re doing okay.”

Clarke snorted, “Fine, we can go over there tomorrow, but you can tell him I’m fine.”

Wells nodded and they continued their walk.

 

Tea at the Jaha’s ended up being a pretty dull affair. In fact, nothing remotely exciting happened until they were done. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Thelonius said, clearing the table, “I forgot to ask how you’re liking your new knight.” 

Her eyes slid to Bellamy, who was standing ramrod straight against the nearby wall. He hadn’t moved a muscle since they’d arrived. 

“I like him alright,” she joked, “He’s just gets far too grumpy for someone so young.” 

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to hers, annoyed, and Wells let out a chuckle.

“I’d be grumpy too if I had to follow you around all day.” Pretending to be offended, Clarke smacked Wells on the shoulder. 

“What’s you name, Sir?” Lord Jaha asked, ignoring his son and the Princess. 

“Sir Blake, my lord.” 

“And how are you liking being Princess Clarke’s personal knight?” Bellamy paused, and Clarke’s smile dropped. She didn’t want to hear his answer. 

“It’s alright,” Bellamy repeated, “She’s far too serious sometimes, for someone so young.” 

The room was quiet for a moment, and Bellamy was about to apologize, worried he had overstepped, but then Jaha laughed, loud and booming, and Bellamy grinned. 

“I like him,” Wells said and Clarke shot him a glare. 

“Of course you do.” 

“So, Clarke,” Jaha changed the subject, “How have you been doing?”

“Apparently, I’m far too serious.” 

Jaha chuckled, but his eyes lacked humor, “I meant, how have you been doing since your father passed?”

“You mean since he was murdered?” The smile dropped from Wells’ face. 

Jaha’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I suppose that is what I meant.” 

“I’m fine, a little anxious at times.”

“After going through something so traumatic, its normal to experience panic attacks.”

Clarke smiled, but it was cold. “I don’t have panic attacks, Lord Jaha. My anxiety stems from the fact that the men who killed my father want me dead too.”

Thelonius looked taken aback, “Why on Earth would you think that?”

Her eyes narrowed, “Surely, you know why.”

Wells was glancing back and forth between them, his jaw clenched. This conversation was far too tense for Bellamy to ignore and he tried not to shift uncomfortably. 

“Forgive me, Princess, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“My father died to keep secrets hidden from the people of the Ark,” Clarke raised an eyebrow at him, challengingly. “And he shared those secrets with me, Thelonius.”

It was bait. She wanted to see how he would react. Did Lord Jaha already know that she knew about the toxic water? Was he the one to send assassins after her father? Would he give the order to send more after her?

Thelonius blinked at her and leaned back in his chair calmly. She noted the way his eyebrow twitched, and the way he crossed his hands in front of him. He was trying and failing to hide his surprise. It was news to him that Jake had told Clarke about the water. But Thelonius did know why Jake Griffin was killed. 

She gulped, wondering what she had just done. Did she just put a target on her back or was it already there? 

 

 

“What’s your name, kid?” Bellamy handed over a wooden sword. Clarke almost dropped it. Shit, she hadn’t thought of that. 

“Ja-” she stopped herself from saying Jake. Using her father’s name might be too obvious. 

“Jay?” he asked, raising his brow skeptically.

“Yes,” she grunted, “My name’s Jay.”

“Alright, well, Jay, today I’m going to teach you proper footwork.”

“Didn’t you already do that?” Clarke whined. She was tired of Bellamy breaking everything down into technicalities. She just wanted to fight. 

“Do you want my help or not?” 

“Fine,” Clarke groaned. By the end she was sweating and her shoulder’s ached from holding the sword in the ‘proper’ position. 

They leaned against the fence, trying to catch their breath. Clarke stayed as far away from him as possible, without being awkward. They had been spending more and more time together and she knew Bellamy was going to start to get suspicious. She continued to use a deep voice, but the dark only lent so much help to her disguise. 

“Do your parents know you sneak out every night?” Bellamy asked. 

Clarke had come up with a backstory, to make Jay more realistic. 

“No, I leave when they fall asleep.” 

“Why doesn’t your dad teach you how to fight?”

“He’s a baker, he doesn’t know how.”

Bellamy nodded. 

“So why do you want to?”

Jay shrugged, “I want to be a knight, but I have to work in the bakery all day so I don’t get a chance to learn.”

Bellamy eyed him, “You’re allowed to work in the bakery looking like that?”

Shit, Clarke hadn’t thought about that. She was dressed as a street urchin, covered in dirt. It didn’t make sense that a baker’s son would be muddy all the time. 

When you get backed into a corner, change the subject. 

“What kind of knight are you?” Clarke asked. Sir Blake didn’t answer at first, recognizing the boy’s deflection. Jay was hiding something- that much was clear. Should he pry or allow the boy his lies? 

“… I work in the castle.”

“Do you guard the Queen?”

“No, I guard the Princess, but before that I used to run these training grounds.”

“You still come here every night?” 

Bellamy shook his head. “I only get one night off a week.” 

“Oh, so what’s the Princess like?”

A selfish part of her wanted to know what Bellamy was going to say about her when he was talking to a stranger. But, she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to hear the answer when Bellamy took a while to answer. 

“She’s… different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah, she’s not like the other royals.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy rubbed his hand through his hair, “I don’t think she actually likes being the Princess.” 

Clarke muffled a snort with a cough. Well, he wasn’t wrong. “Do you like guarding her?”

Bellamy apparently didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Enough talking,” he lifted off from the fence. “Get into position.” 

Clarke grumbled, but followed him back into the dirt, trying not to wince at the pinch in her shoulder as she lifted the sword.


	11. Chapter 11

Clarke was more nervous than normal the days after tea with the Jaha’s. She jumped at every noise, couldn’t even look down long enough to draw and had a hard time sleeping. Bellamy seemed to be the first person to notice. 

“You know no one is going to hurt you when I’m around, right?” 

“Well, you’d be shit at your job if you did.” 

“I’m serious,” Bellamy said, grabbing Clarke’s shoulder and turning her. They were near the entrance of the castle, on the way to see Octavia, and Clarke had almost just jumped out of her skin when a servant came around the corner too fast holding a tray of food. 

“So am I,” she said.

“Clarke, I was there when you were talking to Lord Jaha, remember? I’ve heard you talk about not trusting your mother’s advisors. I’m not stupid.” 

Clarke huffed out a breath, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him, it was dumb. If he didn’t know already, he does now.”

Bellamy nodded, ushering her out of the castle into the cooler air. “You think he’s one of the men that plotted to have your father killed?”

“I don’t know, but I can tell he’s hiding something. There was a reason he invited me over for tea, and it wasn’t to make sure I was doing okay.” 

“You said your father told you dangerous secrets?” 

Clarke nodded, her face growing serious. “I’m not telling you anything, Sir Blake.”

He bristled. “I wasn’t asking you to.”

She eyed him appraisingly. Bellamy didn’t seem like the type of man to lie. And without thinking about it, she had come to trust him. Clarke almost cursed herself for being naïve. But her gut told her he was a good man and that he would never betray her. Her gut had also said the same thing about Lexa…

“Besides, if I told you, you’d be in danger too.” 

“I can take care of myself, Princess, but its nice to know you care,” he smirked. 

Clarke snorted, “Don’t flatter yourself, Blake. If you die, I’d get a new knight and none of them are as grumpy as you. It wouldn’t be any fun.” 

 

“You know, if you really want to make sure I’m safe, you could teach me how to fight.”

Bellamy scoffed, and Clarke’s face dropped.

“Your mother would kill me.” She tried to hide her disappointment. Part of her really thought Bellamy would agree to teach her a few things, but apparently she was wrong. She would have to keep being Jay for as long as possible if she had any hope of surviving. 

“Not if she kills me first,” Clarke said, making Bellamy choke. She turned towards the stables, leaving him behind to work through a coughing fit. 

 

 

“Princess,” a man called, entering the library. Clarke looked up from where she was studying an anatomy journal and taking notes. 

“Your mother would like to see you,” Kane said, crossing his arms in front of him. 

Marcus Kane was a puzzle to Clarke. As far as she could tell, he was loyal to her mother, in more ways than one. Clarke knew her parent’s marriage had been rough. As a little girl she thought she had the perfect family, but as she grew she began to understand why her parents slept in different beds. They were incredibly different people. Kane, though, always seemed to understand Abby. He was a kind man and even though he was in love with Abby, Clarke wasn’t sure he loved her enough to help her murder her own husband. She wasn’t even sure he knew why her father had been killed in the first place. 

“Its alright, Clarke,” Jackson said, beginning to pile up the material, “We can finish tomorrow.”

Jackson was her tutor and he was hired to teach her all subjects- math, history, poetry, writing- but one day he had started talking about science and the human body. Clarke had been entranced and she forced him to teach her as much about medicine as he could. Jackson refused at first, saying that he didn’t want the Queen to fire him, but eventually Clarke had worn him down. She had to agree to do her other lessons as well, much to Clarke’s dismay, but the science made it worth it. 

Kane led her out of the library, towards one of the castle’s many balconies. Bellamy followed close behind. Tea and pastries were set out. 

Begrudgingly, Clarke sat. What did her mother want now?

“I was hoping we could just get some time alone, today.” 

Clarke poured herself a cup of tea, wishing it were something stronger.

“What would you like to talk about?”

Abby sighed, “I know you’ve been having a hard time, Clarke. Your father’s death has affected us all.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re having any trouble.” Clarke glanced pointedly to where Kane was seated inside, talking quietly to Sir Blake. They men couldn’t hear what they were saying and vice versa. 

“Marcus has been there for me and for that I am grateful.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke took a sip. 

“But I’m worried about you,” Abby said. 

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed, “I know what happened at the ball. With Lord Collins. I know that you’ve…” 

Fear hit her. Did Abby know about her sneaking out once a week to train? Was Bellamy in trouble for helping her? Oh god, if Sir Blake got fired because of her she would feel so guilty. He didn’t even know he was doing something wrong!

“You know what?” Clarke asked, eyes wide.

Abby reached forward, grabbing Clarke’s hand from where it was rested on the table. “I know that you’ve been seeing Raven Reeves frequently and spending a lot of time with Octavia Blake.”

“So?” This wasn’t where Clarke thought this was going. 

“If being with them helps you, I’m fine with that. I know what I said before, about you and other women, but I was wrong.”

Clarke sat there, motionless, unbelieving. Her mother had never admitted to being wrong before. 

“I’m not involved with Raven or Octavia.”

The Queen searched her face for a moment before nodding and pulling back, “Okay.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you’re fine with me seeing other women?”

Abby’s face pinched a bit. “Part of it. I also wanted to talk to you about something you said to Lord Jaha.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. This was so typical. Her mother had buttered her up so that she could make the bad news more bearable. 

“You told Thelonius that someone is trying to kill you? What is that all about, Clarke? That’s just crazy.”

But it didn’t sound crazy to her. It sounded like a real, credible worry.

“Those men killed dad, because they were trying to cover up something he had discovered.” 

“No, Clarke,” Abby shook her head, “Grounders killed your father. They were angry that he took over the Grounder clans when he became king. They despise rules and laws- you know this. They’re savages, Clarke!”

“Why are you lying?” Clarke cried, slamming her hand on the table, “You weren’t even there! The men that killed dad were not Grounders. They were knights! They used broadswords! They wore masks so they wouldn’t be recognized! Why would Grounders do that?” 

“This is ridiculous, Clarke.”

“No, you know what’s ridiculous? Pretending that you didn’t order those knights to kill your husband is ridiculous. He found out about the ground water and wanted to tell people. But you didn’t want that. You probably begged him not to tell. You were too worried that the people would rise up against us, take the crown away and blame us for their dying children. Well guess what, Mom? We are to blame. The water is killing people because of us. And the longer you keep it a secret, the more people will die.” 

Silence. Abby’s gaze was brimming with fire, her hands clenched, and mouth in a straight line. 

Her voice was low, almost inaudible, “You need to be more careful, Clarke.” 

“Why? Am I next?” 

Abby didn’t react, didn’t even blink, and the answer became clear. 

Clarke didn’t want it to be true, but it was. Abby had killed King Jake and now she might be plotting for her daughter to be next. 

Taking a shaky breath, Clarke rose, and Abby tracked her movements. 

“Dad wanted to tell the people the truth and so do I. If you’re going to kill me for that, you should know that I’m not going down without a fight.” 

Bellamy stood as soon as Clarke came in from the balcony. One look at her face and he knew something was wrong. Abby was still outside, staring at her tea, deep in thought. He followed Clarke back to the library, where she sat for hours, staring at a book with the same stony look as her mother.


	12. Chapter 12

“You have a visitor, Princess,” Bellamy announced. Clarke’s head popped up from where she had been working on the math assignment Jackson had given. At first she thought it was Wells, but Bellamy never introduced him, he usually just walked right in. 

Clarke raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Bellamy turned to reveal the slim figure in the doorway. Raven Reeves stood, hip cocked, holding a large bag on her shoulder. It was the sword!

“Raven!” Clarke greeted, not having to fake her excitement. 

“Hey, Princess.” Raven brushed past Bellamy, giving him a once over, “Looking good, Blake.”

Bellamy shot her a dry look and Clarke tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her head. 

“Sir Blake, can you shut the door, please?” 

As soon as the door shut, Clarke turned on Raven.

“What’d you bring me?” she grinned. 

Raven shook her head, but she was smiling too. She approached the drawing table, setting the bag down softly to avoid making any noise. Clarke was giddy as she watched Raven unwrapped it. 

Delicately, Raven handed the weapon over. The sword was beautiful, all shiny gold and silver, and Clarke couldn’t help but gasp.

It was lighter than any other sword she’d held before, the blade slightly more narrow but just as long. The pommel was gold with some type of animal carved into the handle. Clarke couldn’t tell what it was. It had wings, but looked like a lion? 

“What is it?” she brought the sword closer to peer down at the weird carving. 

“It’s a griffin.” 

Clarke blinked, not sure she heard that right. Raven had carved a griffin into the sword, for her. It was more than she could’ve ever asked for. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“You’re a Princess. I figured you deserved a sword fancy enough for your title,” Raven shrugged, “Anyways, it’s thinner than most swords, so you’ll have to get used to that. And it’s also a bit more flexible. It won’t cause as much damage as a normal sword, unless you aim right.” 

“It’s perfect,” Clarke ran her hand down the blade, admiringly. 

“So,” Raven drawled and Clarke raised a brow. “Show me what you’ve got, Princess.”

Clarke’s smile turned cheeky. Expertly, she twirled the blade in her wrist, getting used to the lighter weight. She stepped back, taking a few practicing swings, slicing the blade through the air like it was part of her arm. 

It wasn’t much of a show; its not like Clarke could swing the sword at her bedpost without getting Sir Blake’s attention. But Raven seemed impressed nonetheless. 

“I thought you were kidding.” 

“About what?” 

Raven furrowed her brow- taking in Clarke’s stance and the confidence she had holding the sword. “I didn’t think you actually knew how to use one.”

Clarke smiled, moving to the side of the bed to stash her new toy. “I’m trying.”

Raven nodded but still looked skeptical. 

“Oh I almost forget,” Clarke said, retrieving a small pouch from the drawing room table. She handed it over. “It’s your payment.”

“Thanks,” Raven pocketed the coins. “It was fun to make. Sinclair had a fit when he saw it. I was supposed to be working on new shields,” she rolled her eyes and Clarke chuckled. 

“Well…” Raven said, heading for the door. 

“Do you want to stay for lunch?” 

Raven stopped, looking back at Clarke. The Princess looked hopeful and Raven hadn’t actually wanted to leave, she’d just figured Clarke wanted her out of her hair. 

“Only if there’s dessert.”

Clarke grinned, “I think I can manage that.” 

 

When Raven left after lunch, Clarke was still smiling. She’d never had very many female friends. Harper and her had been close as children, but they had grown up and moved on. It was difficult being friends with someone who dressed and cleaned up after you.

“You seem happy,” Bellamy commented. 

“I am. I like Raven.”

“Me too,” Bellamy said and Clarke’s couldn’t help as her smile fell a bit. He seemed to notice the slight change. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Clarke said, but the words sounded like bullshit, even to her. 

He glanced at her suspiciously. 

“Raven told me that you and her slept together,” Clarke blurted. 

Bellamy stopped in his tracks, blinking down at her with wide eyes. 

“She told you about that?”

A blush was rising to Clarke’s cheeks and she quickly tried to hide it by looking off into the distance. 

“Are you two together? I could give you nights off if you wanted to spend more time with her.” 

They continued walking, the air now filled with uncomfortable tension. 

“We aren’t together. It was just one night,” he said, tight. 

Clarke nodded, “I think you two would be good together though.” 

And it was true. Raven and Bellamy seemed like the perfect pair. She was brilliant and so was he, even if he didn’t always show it. They were both strong willed people. Raven loved to make weapons and he loved to use them. Not to mention, they were both beautiful, beautiful people. Maybe that was where Clarke’s unexplained jealousy had come from. Raven and Bellamy were almost made for each other, but where was her partner? 

Bellamy was looking at her funny and it made Clarke squirm. 

When he spoke, his voice was dark, “Raven is great, but I don’t like her like that.” 

Clarke nodded, avoiding his eye. This conversation was making her far too rattled. 

“I got you something,” she shifted gears, reaching into her dress pocket. 

Bellamy’s eyes widened, “Huh?”

Clarke pulled out a book, handing it over and biting her lip at his dumbstruck expression. 

“Octavia told me you like to read about history and suggested something about the Dark Ages.” He looked down at the book, gulping when he saw the title. “But then I realized where the name Octavia came from and couldn’t help myself.” 

_The Roman Empire: A Complete History_

“Clarke,” he started, but his voice cracked. No one had ever really gotten him a present before. “I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can,” she grinned, “because when you’re done with it, you get to be the one to teach it to me. That’s the only way I could get Jackson to agree to go get it. History is his least favorite subject.” 

Bellamy tried to smile, but honesty he was too busy staring at the gift. 

“What?” Clarke said, glancing worriedly between him and the book in his hands, “Do you not like it?” 

“No, Clarke, I love it. Thank you.” 

She flinched when stepped forward to hug her, so he quickly changed direction- resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze instead. 

She smiled, recovering, and laid her hand over his, “You wont be thanking me later, when I’m falling asleep during your boring lectures.”

“If you fall asleep when I’m talking about Augusts, I will dump a bucket of cold water on your head.” 

He pinched her, making her squeal and she shoved him back playfully. Bellamy chuckled, tucking the book away for safekeeping. 

“Let’s go, Princess. I’m starving.” 

 

Raven and Clarke spent a lot of time together after that. When she wasn’t working, Raven would come visit her in the castle and Clarke made Sir Blake take her to Sinclair’s shop every few days. Sometimes they would talk and giggle and tease. Other times, Clarke would just sit and draw while Raven worked on a new project. It was a friendship that began with hatred and a shared heartbreak, but quickly turned to admiration and fondness. 

Clarke was smart and sarcastic. Raven was brilliant and sassy. Sir Blake would watch them sometimes, observing the easy way they got along and the playful way they gave each other shit. These were two women he wouldn’t ever want to cross. Paired together, he was downright fearful for anyone that wronged them. 

 

“Do you think you could train me how to fight without a sword?” Jay had asked him one night. 

Bellamy was confused. 

“Without a sword?”

“Yeah, like punching, kicking…”

“Why do you want to learn how to do that? Someone beating you up?” Bellamy joked, but he watched the boy’s reaction, fearing that he might be spot on. 

“I just want to know how to protect myself if I don’t have a weapon.” 

It was a reasonable request. Bellamy used to train all of his knights in hand-to-hand combat. It was harder to fight with armor on, but you never knew when you were going to lose your grip on the sword or get disarmed. 

“Maybe some other time,” Bellamy said. He would have to come up with a plan to train Jay. The boy was short and not super strong. His strikes would have to be well placed and defense would be important. 

Jay seemed disappointed.

“I’ll teach you, I just have to figure out how. You’re a lot smaller than the men I usually train.” 

Jay’s frown turned up. “Oh. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, now go practice your strikes. Two hundred times.” 

For the first time in a while, Jay didn’t complain as he picked up the sword and began practicing.


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke swung upward, aiming for Bellamy’s neck. He dodged it easily, chuckling slightly. 

“Nice try, but you’re going to have to be a little faster.” 

It was so aggravating when he laughed at her. It felt patronizing and she knew he did it just to make her mad. Both Bellamy and Clarke had discovered that an angry Clarke swung a sword much better than a non-angry one. Of course Sir Blake didn’t know it was Clarke he was pissing off. 

He was still making her use wooden swords and coaching her through drills like a child, which Clarke found annoying. The only time he let her use a real sword was when he made her swing at the straw dummy hundreds of times in a row. 

“You ever going to swing back?” Clarke mocked, “Or just let me keep doing all the actual fighting?” Bellamy’s posture changed instantly, going from playful to aggressive in a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. 

“You might regret saying that,” his voice was dark. She already did. 

Bellamy faked a strike to the left, which Clarke fell for, bringing her sword up to block. The defensive move left an entire side of her body vulnerable, which Bellamy took full advantage of. The sword connected with her ribs and she let out a yelp of pain. If it hadn’t been dark, Clarke was sure she would see a smirk on Bellamy’s smug face. 

He had expected her to take a step back after getting struck, return to practicing offensive strikes. So, Bellamy was caught off guard when she jutted her sword forward into his meaty shoulder. The move was untactful and sort of cheap, but she didn’t care. It pushed him off balance, and Clarke used the opportunity to kick him in the gut. To hell with swords, she was pissed, and she wanted to fight him with her body not a wooden stick.

He grunted, falling back into the dirt. 

“That was cheap.” 

Clarke shrugged, “I’m tired of you going easy on me.” 

“I’m not going easy on you,” Bellamy scoffed, “I’m teaching you how to be a proper swordsman.” He stood, brushing dirt from his back, and throwing the wooden sword back towards the armory hallway. 

“I don’t want to know how to be a proper swordsman, Bellamy. Someone trying to kill me isn’t going to fight with honor, why should I?” Clarke followed suit and threw the wooden sword into the darkness. It landed with a dull thump.

“Why would someone try to kill you, Jay?” Bellamy sounded genuinely concerned. 

Clarke opened her mouth to answer, but was cut short by a large gong. The sounded echoed through her chest. Oh shit. They knew she was missing. Clarke had only ever heard the castle bells ring once before, when her father had died. 

“I have to go,” Clarke blurted at the same time Bellamy said, “Oh no.” 

She took off through the training grounds, not sure where she was headed. Behind her, she heard Bellamy take off at a dead sprint in the other direction, towards the castle. 

Oh god, oh god. Where was she going to go? She couldn’t go back to the castle looking like a boy. She definitely could wander the streets looking like a Princess either. Where was she even going to get a change of clothes? She could only think of one option and it was a risky one.

Clarke ran through the castle grounds, sticking to the shadows and close to buildings. The bells continued to chime, a constant reminder that she was going to be in so much trouble. She eventually made it to the servant’s quarters and slipped inside. 

The bakers were already awake and getting ready to make breakfast in the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to be inconspicuous, when she realized the servants were panicked from being woken up by the bells. 

“It’s the Princess, she’s gone! … The Queen, she’s frantic… poison… dead… Princess… missing.” Clarke tried to ignore the conversations around her as she climbed to the fourth floor. 

“Octavia!” Clarke banged on the door harshly. 

The door swung open to reveal the young girl, black hair wild, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“What the hell?” 

Clarke pushed her way into the room, “Close the door.”

“Who are you?!” Octavia gasped. A stranger pushing his way into the room had broken her out of the sleepy haze completely. She reached for the hand mirror on the table and Clarke held her hands up in surrender. 

“Ocatvia, stop! It’s me, Clarke,” she took her sleeve and wiped her face of the dirt and makeup. Clarke kept one hand up and used the other the take the hat off her head and begin plucking the pins in her hair.

It took a moment, but Octavia finally lowered the mirror. 

“Princess?” she was wide eyed and breathing hard. 

“Yes, its me. Now please shut the door.” 

Octavia rushed to shut it, “What are you doing here?”

“I need some help,” Clarke was stripping out of her grimy clothes hurriedly.

“Yeah, I can see that. Why are you dressed up like a boy?”

“That’s actually what I need help with, can I borrow a night gown?”

“Wait, are they ringing the bells for you?” 

“Yes,” Clarke grunted pulling off her sweaty trousers. Octavia was stunned. The Princess had busted into her room, dirty, dressed like a boy, and was now almost naked. She shook herself out of it enough to grab Clarke a nightgown.

Clarke reached out to grab the white clothing from the young girl, but Octavia pulled back. “Wait. You never told me why you were dressed like a boy.” 

Clarke’s hand stilled, “It’s the only way I can get out of the castle.” 

Octavia nodded, understanding what it was like to be trapped, and passed the nightgown over. 

“Woah, you even wrap your chest?” 

Clarke flung the nightgown over her head, not bothering to take off the wrapping. “Yeah, you try having these breasts and posing as a boy. Nearly impossible.” 

That made Octavia chuckle.

“Thank you, Octavia, I promise I will explain everything to you later.” She gathered up the clothes, fully intending to throw them in the waste on her way out.

“Here,” Octavia reached out, “I’ll hide these for you.”

“Thank you, I owe you,” Clarke threw the dirty pile into Octavia’s arms. 

“Clarke, does my brother know about this?” The blonde girl froze. 

“No.”

“I thought not,” Octavia nodded, “don’t worry, I wont tell him.” Clarke let out a breath of relief. 

“But if he finds out and finds out that I knew, I’m going to tell him you threatened me to stay quiet.”

Clarke laughed, “Fair enough. Goodnight, Octavia.” And just like that the Princess left as fast as she arrived. 

Clarke scurried down the stairwell of the servant quarters, praying she wouldn’t run into anyone. Luck was apparently on her side, because she made it to the second story windowsill without seeing a soul. 

She crawled into the small nook of the widow and got in a fetal position. All she had to do now was wait until someone stumbled across her. Clarke closed her eyes and tried to slow her pounding heart, it would only be minutes now. 

 

 

When Bellamy heard the bells his heart had stopped. Of course, of course something would happen on the night he was off. He didn’t remember running to the castle, but next thing he knew he was standing in the throne room with a sea of royal guardsmen.

Abby announced that the Princess was missing. Bellamy’s heart clenched, please don’t let her be dead. She was always talking about her father’s killers, how one day they would come after her too. Please let the girl be alive, please, Bellamy prayed. If she died, he felt like that would be on him. His Princess, his responsibility. 

The royal guards had scoured the castle and she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she had managed to slip past her guards and was in town, or the gardens. Maybe she was with Wells, Bellamy hoped. He ran to the only spot he knew to look for her.

He flew through the door of the servants quarters and took the stairs two at a time. A familiar blonde shimmer caught his eye as he rounded the corner. 

“Clarke!” the shimmer didn’t move. As he came closer, Bellamy knew it was her and felt instantly relieved. 

She looked so small, curled up on the tiny windowsill, wearing nothing but a nightgown. 

“Clarke!” Bellamy repeated, shaking her shoulder. The girl stirred. Well, thank god she wasn’t dead. 

“What are you, deaf?” 

The Princess sat up and yawned, “Oh god, I must’ve fell asleep.” 

“Yeah, no kidding. The whole kingdom is looking for you.” Bellamy noticed the way her blue eyes widened and watched as she ran a nervous hand through her hair.

“We have to go,” she shot up and rushed down the stairs. Bellamy followed close behind.

“How did you get out of the castle?”

“My guards were asleep,” her voice was quiet. Bellamy stared at her back, her long blonde hair flowing behind her. Something about this felt off. 

“Of course they were,” he growled. They had made it to the kitchen and a servant girl gasped when she recognized Clarke.

“She’s in here!” the girl cried. At that moment, royal guards barged through the kitchen doors, swords drawn.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Clarke yelled, “Just fell asleep.” 

The guards paused, assessing the Princess and Bellamy.

“Sir Blake is my personal knight,” Clarke supplied. He wasn’t dressed like a knight, still wearing his dirty training clothes, and for a second he didn’t think the guards believed her. 

Eventually, one of them sheathed their swords and the rest followed.

“Someone get her a cloak!” one of them ordered. The servants stumbled over each other to retrieve one. Clarke looked very uncomfortable, her shoulders tense and one hand covering her middle. A woman emerged and draped the brown cloak over Clarke’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” the Princess said and the woman nodded.


	14. Chapter 14

Clarke and Bellamy were ushered back to the castle. One guard had run ahead to inform the Queen that the missing Princess had been located. The bells stopped ringing when they had made it to the gardens. The rest of the walk was silent, only their footfalls and the sound of metal armor rubbing made any sound in the cool night. 

Bellamy stayed a step behind Clarke, still staring at the back of her head. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut that his Princess was hiding something. It was nearly impossible to sleep through the sound of the castle bells unless you were passed out drunk and yet Clarke hadn’t even woken when he had yelled her name. 

Bellamy was still thinking about it when they entered the throne room. He watched as Abby ran from the throne, tears in her eyes. The royal guard parted to reveal Clarke and the Queen gathered her daughter into her arms. 

“Oh Clarke! You had me so worried. I thought something had happened to you.” 

Clarke hugged the woman back stiffly, “No, mom, I just fell asleep is all.”

Abby pulled back, he mood changing suddenly, “What were you doing outside of the castle walls, anyways? When I came to your room and you weren’t there, I thought the worst!” 

Bellamy saw Clarke gulp, “I couldn’t sleep. I just, just wanted to get out of here for a little while is all. I wanted to draw the sunrise this morning, but I didn’t realize how tired I was and I accidently fell asleep.”

Bellamy’s brow furrowed. Clarke hadn’t had any drawing supplies when he found her, how was she planning on drawing the sunrise? It was then that he knew the Princess was lying. She hadn’t fallen asleep on the windowsill, she had probably rushed there when she heard the bells to avoid being caught doing whatever it was she actually was doing. She hadn’t woken up to the bells, because she was pretending to be asleep. 

“That is incredibly dangerous, Clarke, not to mention incredibly selfish. Do you know-”

“Wait, what were you doing in my room?” Clarke questioned, cutting the Queen off. This time Abby gulped. He watched as the older woman’s face shifted. Her anger morphed into something sad and sorry. She took a step away from her daughter, and Bellamy straightened.

He had been so busy thinking about Clarke; he hadn’t noticed what was really going on. The Queen was upset about something more than just her missing daughter.

“Leave us,” Abby barked. The royal guardsmen followed the order, leaving only Abby, Clarke, the queen’s three knights, and Bellamy in the throne room. Abby gave Bellamy a withering glare. 

“He stays,” Clarke snapped and took a small step backwards, her back meeting his chest. She was scared, he realized. Something she had seen in her mother’s gaze had frightened her.

I’ve got your back, Princess. 

“It’s about Wells, Clarke,” the woman said softly, “He was shopping in town today. A street girl came up to him, asking for money. He reached into his pocket for a few coins and she saw the knife with the Jaha family crest engraving in his belt. She took the knife from him and… and stabbed him,” Bellamy put his hand on Clarke’s shoulder as dread crept into his bones. “By the time someone found him, it was too late, Wells had bled out.” 

The room became suddenly cold. Bellamy couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Wells Jaha was dead. Tears ran down the Queen’s cheeks, but Bellamy only looked to Clarke. She was too close to him, though, and her hair hid her face.

Wells had been Clarke’s best friend her entire life. They had grown up together, Bellamy knew. The two were as close and he and his sister. The thought made his heart ache. Losing Octavia would break him. Losing Wells might just break Clarke, if it hadn’t already. 

“Why did she do it?” Clarke’s voice was low, barely audible.

“As far as we could tell, the girl’s parents had been hung by Lord Jaha for theft. She recognized the crest and Wells, and did it for revenge. A few townsfolk brought her to us, but while we were trying to question her, she…. She threw herself out of the window. ” 

Clarke looked over to the wall of windows on her left; just now noticing one of them was shattered. The fall would’ve killed the girl instantly. 

Bellamy wasn’t sure what he was expecting Clarke to do. Cry, scream or maybe even run away? What he wasn’t expecting was her to nod sharply, say, “I see,” and calmly walk out of the room. He blinked a few times, confused, before following her. Abby, too, looked stunned. Did Clarke already know that Wells was dead? She didn’t seem surprised, or even emotional, hearing that he had been killed. 

His bewilderment carried him up the stairs behind her, all the way to her room. She opened the door, but Bellamy reached out with a straight arm to keep it from closing right away.

“Clarke,” he searched her face, “are you alright?” 

Her frame was small in the doorway with her chin downturned and arms crossed tightly around her middle. When her head rose, Bellamy stiffened. Her eyes showed no sign she was crying, no sign she felt anything. They were utterly empty. 

“I’m fine, Sir Blake, goodnight.” The door shut in his face. 

Clarke Griffin had lost her father, was convinced her mother was trying to kill her, and now had lost her best friend. She lived in the castle, completely alone, without love or fun. Bellamy knew what he had seen in her lifeless blue stare. Clarke Griffin had given up. She had shut herself down, unwilling to feel emotion, for fear that it would overwhelm her. 

He stood outside the girl’s door all day, unmoving. A few times, he thought he heard her cry out, but the sound was quickly muffled. He couldn’t be sure it was a sob at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its going to get a little dark...

Clarke woke up and it was dark out. She must have slept all day. Harper was near the fireplace, poking at the burning logs. The handmaid’s shoulders were shaking as she crouched down. Crying, Clarke realized, Harper was crying.

Wells was dead. Harper was crying because Wells was dead. If Clarke had grown up with Wells and Harper in her live, then it only made sense that the two had known each other too. Clarke remembered how kind Wells was to Harper, always inviting her to play with them. She remembered how surprised Harper had been the first time he invited her. After that, Harper always laughed when Wells made a joke and would always wear her nicest dress when she was coming to play. Yes, Harper had a reason to cry about Wells’ death. 

She sat up, startling Harper. 

“Clarke! You’re awake. Are you hungry?” she rushed to the table, uncovering a plate of cheese and breads. 

Clarke shook her head, “I just need to relieve myself.” Harper seemed to understand and left for a moment to give Clarke some privacy. When she returned Clarke was already back in bed, head buried under the blankets. 

Clarke didn’t know what time it was when she woke again. A weird feeling prickled at her nose, making her sneeze.

“Bless you.” 

Her eyes flew open and she stared, uncomprehending, at the brown eyes in front of her. 

“Raven?”

“I didn’t know Princesses had such bad morning breath,” the girl joked. 

Clarke quickly covered her mouth and mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Clarke, I was only kidding.” 

Clarke managed a small smile, “What are you doing here?” 

Raven’s eyes softened. “I heard about Wells. I’m sorry,” her hand lifted to push the blonde hair out of Clarke’s eyes. “Your knight didn’t know what else to do. Apparently, you’ve been in bed for over two days and haven’t even eaten.” 

“My knight? Bellamy, I mean Sir Blake, brought you here?”

Raven smirked, “He said that I was the only person he knew who would be able to get your ass out of bed without having to actually lift you.” 

Clarke had to admit he was right. Raven was an impressive woman, who was also slightly intimidating. The truth was, though, Clarke didn’t think anyone could help her at this point. Sure, getting out of bed might make it seem like she was all right, but Clarke was lost. Wells was the last good thing in her life and now he too was dead. Everyone she loved was dead. And she was next.

“How about we start with a bath?” Raven threw the covers off them without waiting for an answer. Clarke shivered at the chill in the room. 

“I had Harper bring in some hot water.” Clarke didn’t say anything, just crawled out of bed and followed the limping brunette girl towards the tub. The steam rose above the bath, making Clarke feel even colder. She wanted to be back under protection of the blankets. 

Raven took one look at the shaking girl and sighed. She started lifting the white nightgown and Clarke silently obeyed, lifting her arms when Raven told her to do so.

“What the hell is this, Griffin?” Clarke looked down at her chest, where Raven was pointing. The wrap from three nights ago was still tied tightly around her breasts. Raven’s question was met with silence and she couldn’t help giving the Princess a weird look as she moved on to unwrap the tight cloth. 

“There, now get in before the water gets too cold.” Clarke did as she was told. The water was still hot, making her draw in a sharp breath. 

“Clarke?” 

Her head turned to see Raven leaning against the drawing table with a wary look in her brown eyes. 

“Why do you look like you got thrown into a brick wall?” 

Clarke’s eyes drifted down her body and she immediately saw what Raven was talking about. Bellamy and her had begun hand to hand training and he definitely hadn't been going easy on her. She'd also been practicing in her room almost every night- hands and feet hitting the wall or bedpost occasionally. After repeating kicks and punches over and over, she would do push ups or sit-ups. Eventually, she would take out her new sword and practice her strikes, sometime slicing herself in the process. 

The training had taken a toll on her body. Deep purple bruises and red welts stood out against her pale skin all along her shoulders, arms, ribs, and legs. Her palms were covered with blisters and her feet, too, were red and swollen. 

“Clarke,” Raven came close and knelt down at the side of the tub, “has someone been hurting you?” She sounded angry. Clarke wondered why. Why would Raven care if someone was beating her? Why was Raven even here? Did she feel pity for the poor Princess who had lost her friend? 

“It’s nothing.” 

Raven’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t push the subject. She grabbed the nearest book and took a seat on the edge of the bed, carefully watching the Princess soak in the hot water. Clarke didn’t move and barely even blinked, she just stared out the window, lost in thought. 

 

Bellamy had stood outside the Princess’s door for two days straight now. She hadn’t made a sound the entire time. Harper brought Clarke food and water every few hours, but reported the same news. Clarke had not left her bed and hadn’t eaten or drank a single thing. 

Bellamy didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t his job to feed the Princess or take care of her. Shouldn’t her mother be checking on her? Bellamy thought about the Queen for a moment, and then took that idea back. Abby was cold and cruel enough, apparently, to avoid comforting her broken daughter. 

By the morning of the second day, Bellamy made a decision. He left three royal guards, who he trusted and had trained himself, by her door and went to the blacksmith. It took some convincing, but eventually Raven came with him back to the castle. She took one look at the lump in the bed, sighed, and crawled in. Bellamy shut the door behind her, praying she could at least get the Princess to eat something. He heard Raven talking an hour or so later, and smiled to himself. If anyone could help Clarke put herself together, it was Raven. 

“BELLAMY! Bellamy, get in here!” a woman screamed. He flew through the door, sword in hand. Raven was on the ground near the bed yelling hysterically and flailing her arms. He could barely understand what she was saying, but he saw that she was gesturing wildly towards the tub in the middle of the room. A blonde glimmer caught his attention and he sprinted to the bath. 

Clarke. Clarke was underwater. Bellamy yanked the girl up by her shoulders and Clarke gasped as she broke through the surface. Water spurted all over Bellamy’s front and the floor and she raggedly fought for air. 

“Clarke! Are you okay?!” he wiped the water from his eyes. She continued sputtering, coughing up water. 

“You stupid bitch! You damn fucking coward!” Raven yelled from the ground.

“Raven, what the hell happened?” Bellamy was trying to help Clarke out of the tub, but the girl wasn’t moving her limbs properly. She practically fell over as he hoisted her up. Her legs went in opposite directions and hand smacked him in the face. He dropped her back down against the rim of the bath and rushed to fetch a towel. 

“She was trying to drown herself!” Raven bellowed, pointing a shaking finger at the blonde. “She was laying there like a fucking statue until I went to get off the bed and my knee gave out. Next thing I know, the stupid bitch has her head underwater! I thought maybe she was washing her hair, but she stayed like that for too long and I couldn’t get to her!” 

Bellamy froze, towel in hand. His eyes darted between the two girls. Raven was sobbing now, clutching her leg that lay limp in front of her. Clarke was propped over the edge of the bath, her wet hair dripping in front of her face, and arms hanging loosely towards the ground. She was still panting and her chin was angled towards the floor. 

Bellamy went into action immediately. He grabbed Clarke from under the armpits and wrapped the towel around her as best he could. She was heavier than she looked and he struggled to maneuver her into the drawing table chair. He tried catching her eyes, but Clarke wouldn’t look at him. As soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to fall out of the chair, he went to help Raven. She had mostly gained her composure and was lifting herself onto the bed. 

He gave her a hand and she whispered a small “thanks” in return. Harper burst into the room a moment later and Bellamy was instantly grateful. 

She took in the state of the room, “What’s going on?” 

“Clarke tried to drown herself,” Raven growled. Harper gasped and Bellamy couldn’t help but flinch. Harper turned to look at the Princess and Bellamy followed her gaze. She looked so… weak. Clarke was shaking, her wet hair was plastered to her face and the towel Bellamy had wrapped around her was falling down. Her eyes were empty as she stared into the distance. 

Harper grabbed the robe that hung nearby and wrapped it around Clarke’s shoulders. 

“We should put her in bed,” Harper stated and Bellamy felt himself nod. Raven was just glaring. 

Harper mumbled something to Clarke and got her to move. The towel and robe fell completely as Clarke rose to her feet wobbly and Harper scrambled to grab them. Bellamy’s mouth dropped. Clarke, his Princess, was standing naked in front of him, but all he could see were the dark purple bruises that covered her skin. 

“Oh my god,” Harper whispered horrified, noticing the same marks. She shook her head and tried to get Clarke in the robe swiftly. Bellamy saw red. He didn’t think he had ever been so angry.

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice was sharp, “who did that to you?” He left Raven’s side and took three large steps until he was directly in front of her. She didn’t move, just stared straight ahead into his chest. He growled and gently lifted her chin. Obediently, her head rose, but her eyes were still blank and unfocused. 

“Clarke, who hurt you?” his voice was softer this time. Clarke’s blue eyes snapped to his and they stared at each other for a few moments, until Bellamy saw her lip quiver.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, but even she didn’t believe it this time. In slow motion, Bellamy watched as the Princess crumbled. She fell forward clutching onto his shirtfront, a wail piercing the air. Bellamy wrapped his arms around her to catch her and walked backwards slowly. When the back of his knees hit the bed, he sat, and gathered Clarke into his lap. The sounds she was making made Bellamy want to clutch her closer and punch something at the same time. He had never heard such heartbreaking noises. 

Eventually, she stopped sobbing and he watched as tears fell silently down her cheeks. He picked her up again and tucked her into bed. Harper had drained the water, for which Bellamy was grateful. Raven was walking again, though limping worse than usual and she begrudgingly brought a cup of water to Clarke’s lips. She took a few sips and Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief.

No one, not even a woman as strong as Clarke Griffin, could shut off their emotions forever. She had hid her pain from the world and it had finally caught up with her. 

Raven sighed, letting the anger slip from her body. She slid into the bed behind Clarke and held her as she cried. Clarke needed her right now, more than Raven needed to be mad. Bellamy couldn’t hear what Raven whispered, but eventually they both fell asleep. He and Harper left them to rest. 

 

Clarke woke with Raven in her bed for the second time. The girl’s strong arms were wrapped around her middle a little painfully, but Clarke didn’t try to get out of the grip. Raven had made her feel safe, made her feel loved; two things Clarke desperately needed right now. She stiffened as she remembered the way Bellamy had held her the day before. The way he had been so angry when he’d seen her bruises. Bellamy was the knight assigned to protect her, sure, but yesterday he had done more than that. Bellamy had comforted her and held her as she cried. Clarke could feel herself blush at the thought. 

“Am I going to have to supervise you every time you try to take a bath now?” Raven said from behind her. 

“No,” Clarke shook her head. “Raven, I’m sorry.” 

Raven took a deep breath and unwrapped her arms. She rolled out of the bed and stretched.

“It’s okay, Clarke. I… I know how you feel. My whole life all I ever had was Finn and then, when I found out he was with you, I… I felt so alone. I know it’s nothing like what you feel, but I want you to know that it’s going to get better. You still have people that love you, Clarke.”

Clarke sat up, “I know Finn hurt us both. I know he was all you had, Raven. I never meant to take that away from you.” 

Raven turned, “I know, Clarke. Besides if it weren’t for him being a pig, I wouldn’t have met you.”

They smiled at each other. Clarke was thankful for Raven’s friendship. She had never been good at making friends and especially not with girls. 

“I’m going to get going. I have to get back to work,” Clarke nodded and Raven headed for the door.

“Raven!” Clarke called, “I just, just thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Clarke.”

“Can you send Harper in?” Clarke said as she scurried out of bed and began stretching.

“Of course,” the brown haired girl said on her way out. Harper came in moments later, escorted by Bellamy. Both of them looked at Clarke with wide eyes, unsure of her state. 

“Raven said you were feeling better,” Harper said hopeful. 

Clarke just nodded and sat down at the table, her stomach growling. She didn’t realize how hungry she was and couldn’t help but shove the day old cheese and bread into her mouth. 

She talked through the food, “I am sorry you both had to see me like that. It won’t happen again.” 

Harper smiled softly, but Bellamy’s scowl didn’t falter. It was like she was see-through to him. Clarke could barely meet his eye without blushing. Had she really been in front of him naked and not even tried to cover her self?

The two stood over her as she ate, silent. When she was done, Clarke glanced in the mirror. God, she looked awful. Harper noticed her looking and came up behind her with a hairbrush. She gently started brushing the matted yellow hair. Clarke leaned into the touch and watched as her reflection slowly started looking less crazy. 

Meeting her own eyes in the mirror, Clarke spoke softly, “Harper, I’m going to need help getting ready for court.”

Harper stopped brushing, hand frozen. Bellamy spoke first, “You’re going to court today?” 

Clarke’s gaze didn’t leave the mirror. “I think the blue dress would be best.” The handmaid blinked in surprise, but nodded. Clarke only wore her favorite blue dress on special occasions. 

“And my tiara.” 

Clarke had never worn her tiara to court. She said it made it harder for the common people to relate to her and rely on her. Royals rarely kept promises, Clarke knew. She wanted to be different. She wanted the trust of the common people. After a moment, Harper set down the brush and rushed to fetch the items. 

Bellamy cleared his throat and Clarke realized they were alone.

“Princess, you and I are going to have a talk about all this when you’re feeling better, especially those bruises,” his voice was gravely. She met his eyes in the mirror. Her knight looked exhausted. There were large bags under his eyes, his hair was a bit stringy and greasy, and his clothes were rumpled as if he had been wearing the same thing for days. He had been worried about her, Clarke thought, feeling guilty. 

She raised an eyebrow, “Yes, Sir Blake.” 

She was rewarded with a smirk. In that one statement, Bellamy saw a glimmer of the Princess he was used to. He opened his mouth to say more, but Harper bustled into the room, gown and tiara in hand. Bellamy excused himself, giving Clarke a final worried look, and the girls got to work.


	16. Chapter 16

Clarke’s long curly blonde hair swung in pace with her arms. The dress she wore fit her perfectly, making her look just as regal as the Queen. The tiara on her head got the biggest reaction out of Bellamy, surprisingly. He wasn’t used to it, even though Abby always wore hers. Clarke looked powerful and poised, but beneath it all was a hollowness only those close to her would recognize.

There were a few turned heads as Clarke walked into the throne room, but Bellamy kept his eyes trained on the Queen, wanting to see her reaction.

Abby’s face tightened when she saw her daughter, but she kept her composure. Lord Jaha was sitting next to Abby on a seat someone had pulled up for him. The man looked haggard, his face desolate and empty eyes matching Clarke’s.

The Princess went straight for him, bypassing her own seat.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Lord Jaha,” she said, dipping her head.

“Clarke,” was all he could say, his voice breaking. He grabbed for her hands, desperately. They shared a moment of eye contact.

Wells Jaha was a good man, kind and pure. He was better than most. Thelonius and Clarke both knew that they had lost the best part of themselves.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, today,” Abby said, interrupting the moment.

Clarke’s red-rimmed eyes swung to her mother. “You asked that I attend court more often, so here I am.”

“The people are happy to see you, I’m sure.”

She gave Lord Jaha one more forlorn look and took her seat, while Abby called court to order. The Queen gave a long drawn out speech about love and loss and how Wells’ death hit home for her and her family. She talked about Jake and how he and Wells were together once again. The entire thing made Clarke feel heavy, but she kept on a brave face, not allowing herself to cry or worse- scream.

Some lord and ladies spoke about Wells and their fond memories of him. The entire thing was painful, but eventually Abby called for a moment of silence and then shifted the proceedings. Done was the time for mourning.

Clarke sat silently while Ark citizens stepped forward and presented their disputes. Abby listened, offering advice, while Kane stood by her side whispering in her ear. Clarke checked out staring at a spot on the far wall, until something brought her back to the present.

A man had stepped forward. He was a young knight with dark hair and beady eyes. When Clarke’s attention turned on him, he immediately averted his gaze. She studied him, trying to decide why he looked so familiar.

“Sir Wallace, your commitment to Ark Kingdom is well known. It would be an honor to offer you a place in the castle as a royal guardsmen,” Abby was saying.

“It would be an honor, Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing.

It was like someone dunked Clarke in ice water. Fear filled her veins, paralyzing her. It wasn’t the man she recognized, it was his voice. The same voice that haunted her dreams.

 

_“Your Majesty? The Queen would like a word,” a knight said, popping his head in to the study._

_Jake moved his piece, giving Clarke an evil grin before scooting out his chair. She glared down at the chessboard, pouting. He was going to win, again!_

_She was grumbling something, trying to figure out a way to move her dad’s pieces without him noticing when she heard a shout. Then the sound of clashing metal._

_Clarke ran through the halls, towards the noise. She rounded the corner, immediately rebounding off something hard and falling to the floor. A knight was standing there, his back to her. He was saying something, screaming._

_The wet sound of a sword slicing through human flesh._

_There was blood on the ground, so much blood. More yelling. She could see her father’s green sweater through the knight’s legs. She crawled forward, trying to get to him, but someone pushed her back._

_“NO! Don’t hurt her!” a man yelled._

_“She saw us.”_

_“Our orders were for him, no one else.”_

_The sound of retreating footsteps._

_Her father lay dead. Eyes open and unseeing. Head barely connected to his neck. Hand outstretched. Blood pooled around him so thick it was black._

_There was a wailing, an ear piercing sobbing that echoed throughout the halls._

_She crawled forward, hands and knees slipping on the wet ground. The noises were coming from her. She gathered her father into her lap, shaking, crying, begging him to stay._

 

“Clarke?” Bellamy peered down at her. Court had been over for a few minutes now. Almost the entire crowd was gone and Abby and Lord Jaha had already left, but the Princess remained.

Bellamy waived a hand in front of her face, but she didn’t even blink.

“Clarke,” he jostled her shoulder a bit and her head snapped up.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I just zoned out their for a minute.”

She jerked out of her seat and Bellamy stepped back, adjusting the sword at his waist.

“It was more like an hour.”

Clarke didn’t respond.

“Princess, I’m not even going to ask if you are okay.”

“Smart,” she said. They both knew she wasn’t.

“But I do need to know where you got all those bruises.”

Clarke panicked momentarily, racking her brain.

“I didn’t want to tell you, but I fell off a horse.”

“WHAT?” he shouted, and the sound echoed in the massive empty room.

“Octavia and I decided to try and ride that new horse and it bucked me off. We thought it would be fun.”

“The untrained one?” Bellamy ran a hand over his face. This girl was going to be the death of him. “Even Lincoln hasn’t even tried to ride him yet!”

“I know,” Clarke said, making her voice small. “It was stupid.”

“When the hell did you do that? Did Octavia get on him?!”

“No, no, I went first! There was no way either of us were going to try again after I fell.”

Bellamy shook his head; relieved at least that Octavia hadn’t been hurt.

“I’m tired,” Clarke breathed.

It was still daylight out, but she felt exhausted. Seeing Lord Jaha, reliving the night of her father’s murder, and recognizing one of the men from that night had really taken it out of her.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, examining her. The bags under her eyes weren’t getting any better. Clarke had come to court, looking strong and regal, but now that everyone was gone she was starting to fall apart again. Hours ago this woman had tried drowning herself. He should’ve known better than to think she was already healing. The stoic face she wore every day was the perfect mask to fool people into thinking she was dealing with her emotions properly.

“Alright, lets get you back to bed.”

Clarke hated lying to Bellamy. The hole she was digging wasn’t getting any smaller. But at this point, Jay and the nights spent with a sword in her hand were all she had. If she lost that, what did she have left? She just hoped she could talk to Octavia before Bellamy did. If he mentioned the horse incident, Octavia would have no idea what he was talking about.

 

 

It was a few weeks before Clarke started to feel like herself again. She attended court every day it was held, not allowing the kingdom to see her shut down. Abby stayed distant, which was fine for both of them. Sir Cage Wallace was one of her mother’s knights now and so wherever the Queen went, he followed. Sir Wallace watched Clarke like a hawk. He thought she didn’t notice, but Clarke was good at seeing things she wasn’t supposed to. She studied him when he wasn’t looking, memorizing movements and posture. Taking notes on the other knights he seemed friendly with. She was sure he had been there that night, the one that wanted to kill her for seeing what happened.

When she wasn’t sleeping or at tutoring, Clarke was drawing. She had gotten a new blank sketchbook from Jackson and began filling it with memories of her father’s murder. She drew Sir Wallace’s face over and over and over again, ingraining it into her memory. She drew the hallway and the pool of blood and the candles on the wall. She drew the masked faces of the men and their swords. She drew everything she could remember. She willed her self to recall every single detail about that night.

If Cage Wallace was going to try and kill her, he wasn’t going to do it alone. Odds were he was going to attack her with the same men that he had been with before. She wanted to be prepared.

At night Clarke would actually allow herself time to cry and mourn for Wells. Harper sometimes had to force her to eat and Raven visited more often. Even Octavia came to the castle, sitting on Clarke’s bed and telling her stories while the Princess stared out the window.

On the nights Bellamy was off, Clarke would go to the training grounds. She began swinging harder, moving faster, talking less. If Bellamy noticed, he didn’t say anything, just continued giving critiques. They used actual swords now. When one of his strikes would land, Clarke would just grunt, take the hit, and move on. Her body stopped feeling pain after a while. All she felt was the burning in her chest after a good night of training and all she ever heard was the crashing of metal as she fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Attempted Sexual Assault Depicted

Bellamy scratched the back of his neck anxiously. There had been no sign of Jay at the training grounds, but Bellamy had decided to practice for a while anyways. He hoped the young boy was okay. He had never missed a chance to train before and Bellamy worried that something had happened. As he approached his door in the servant’s quarters he was surprised to hear voices inside. Did Octavia have people over? Bellamy didn’t like that idea at all. The door swung open to reveal chaos.

 

Clarke was straddling Jasper, her shoulders growing tired from pressing so hard on the wound. She didn’t want to think about how pissed Bellamy was going to be when he got home and found blood everywhere and an unconscious man in his bed. 

Octavia rushed into the room, her dark hair swinging, “Clarke, what are we going to do?”

Clarke looked down at the skinny man beneath her. He was extremely pale, but still breathing, if not a little shallowly. She closed her eyes, trying to recollect the medical training her mother had given her. 

“Get Murphy and Monty in here, I’m going to need their help.” 

The two men were arguing about something in the entryway. They stopped when Octavia entered and followed her back into Bellamy’s room after she snapped at them. 

“Okay, listen to me, I need you to find any alcohol you can. I am also going to need clean cloth and a knife. Octavia, go get a sewing needle, the biggest one you have, and thread. Also, you’re going to need to start a pot of boiling water,” Clarke couldn’t help but be a little proud of herself. She sounded like she knew what she was doing. 

Monty, Murphy and Octavia turned to get to work but were stopped by a large figure in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Bellamy!” Octavia cried out in shock, “What are you doing home so early?” 

Bellamy didn’t answer; instead he turned his irate gaze on Murphy and Monty. Both men seemed to quail under his ferocious glare. 

“Look, Bellamy, you can be mad later, but right now, I could really use some help,” a desperate voice called. 

Bellamy’s eyes snapped to the blonde girl on his bed. He had been too mad at the idea of Octavia being home alone with men to notice the girl before. And he definitely hadn’t noticed the man she was currently on top of. 

“Clarke?” his eyebrows knitted.

“For gods sake Bellamy, let them out of the room so I can help Jasper!” 

Octavia pushed passed her brother without waiting for permission. Bellamy instinctively took a step to the side, but kept his attention at the scene on his bed. Murphy and Monty followed Octavia, giving Bellamy sheepish looks as they hurried by.

“Princess, you need to start explaining.”

Clarke threw an angry glare over her shoulder, “Jasper is dying, Bellamy. An explanation can wait.” He held her blue gaze for a second and then looked to the boy on the bed. Jasper was unconscious, pale, barely breathing, and covered in blood. Bellamy nodded as he realized she was right. Jasper needed all the attention right now. 

Octavia charged back into the room, flanked by Monty and Murphy.

“Okay, Clarke, we got everything. Now tell us what to do.” 

Bellamy watched as Clarke took a deep breath and set her shoulders. Her hands were covered in blood that he hoped was only Jasper’s. When she started speaking the room listened, “Alright, first someone needs to rip the cloth into long strips and put it in the boiling water.”

“On it,” Monty said, tearing the shirt in his hand and leaving towards the kitchen.

“Octavia, I need you to bring the alcohol over here and- ” Clarke stopped talking and everyone paused anxiously.

“Actually, first Octavia, I’m going to need you to tie my hair back.”

Octavia’s brows rose, but she rushed to the blonde girl and pulled her hair back in a rough braid. Bellamy noted the way Octavia’s hands shook and saw blood was splattered on the front of her dress. A pit grew in his stomach. He was going to have to hurt someone tonight. 

“Thanks. Okay, now when I lift my hands from the wound I am going to need you to pour the alcohol on it. I am also going to need you to pour it all over the knife and my hands, got it?”

Octavia gulped and nodded. 

“Bellamy, Murphy,” the two men straightened in anticipation, “I am going to need you to hold Jasper down while Octavia pours the alcohol. It’s going to hurt him, a lot.” 

“Done!” Monty declared coming back into the room.

“Good, you can help hold Jasper down too.”

The three men came to the bedside. Murphy and Monty both took a leg and Bellamy settled his hands on Jasper’s shoulders. He looked to Clarke. Her face was pale, blood was smeared across her cheek and her mouth was in a tight line. In that moment, Bellamy realized she was scared. She looked more like a young girl than he had ever seen before. 

“Clarke,” her wide eyes rose to his, “You can do this, Princess.” She searched his gaze and apparently found what she needed. Her eyes sharpened and Bellamy watched as her fear turned to immediate determination. It was so very Clarke. Show no weakness. 

“On the count of three,” Clarke said. “One… two… three,” she lifted her hands and blood started pouring out of Jasper’s chest immediately. The sight made Bellamy’s stomach turn. 

Octavia quickly dumped half the bottle on the wound and Jasper cried out in pain. Monty and Murphy grunted as Jasper’s legs attempted to kick upwards.

“Now my hands!” Clarke ordered and Octavia turned the bottle to spill into Clarke’s palms. 

“Knife,” Clarke held out her hand and Octavia quickly doused the knife in rum and handed it over. Bellamy was curious what Clarke needed the knife for. Jasper was already cut open. He decided not to question it out loud, not when she was holding the sharp object and seemed to know what she was doing. 

Clarke hesitated for a minute, her blue eyes trained on the gash in Jasper’s chest. Bellamy wondered if she was panicking again, but then the Princess twirled the knife in her hand expertly and leaned down. He had never seen such a thing. 

The room watched as Clarke lowered the knife to Jasper’s skin. She added pressure and blood bloomed from the incision. Clarke bit her lip in focus and a lock of blonde hair fell out of the braid into her face. Slowly, she dragged the knife from the bottom of the wound along the underside of Jasper’s ribs. 

“Shhh, Jasper, it’s going to be all right,” Monty comforted. 

Clarke switched the knife to her other hand and Octavia gasped as Clarke abruptly plunged an entire hand into the open wound. 

“Clarke, what are you doing?” Monty exclaimed. The girl pushed her hand in farther and Bellamy pressed Jasper more firmly into the bed to keep him from moving. Everyone was staring at Clarke in shock, but she was too concentrated to notice. Her eyes closed and she tilted her head to the ceiling, focusing on feeling with her fingers. 

“Ah ha!” she cried out when her fingers brushed across the hard object. Using her pointer finger and thumb, Clarke pulled on the object and was relieved when it slid easily out of Jasper’s flesh. Her hand made a sickly popping noise as it came out of his chest. 

Monty, Bellamy and Octavia gaped at Clarke as she held up a small black object.

“Princess, what is that?” Bellamy asked.

“Octavia, dip the needle in alcohol and hand it to me please.” Octavia did as she was asked, and when Clarke held out her other hand, Octavia just passed over the entire bottle. 

Clarke dumped the rest of the liquid on the wound and bent down again. She began threading the needle through Jasper’s skin, pulling it taught after each stitch.

“Octavia, go get those boiled cloths please.” Octavia left without a word.

Clarke spoke to the room then, “When the man pulled his spear out of Jasper’s chest, I noticed that it was chipped. I knew part of it must have broken off inside him, against his ribs.” 

“Clarke?” Murphy spoke as Octavia bustled back into the room. 

“Yes?” Clarke’s head was still bent over Jasper, concentrating on the stitches. 

“Why does Bellamy keep calling you Princess?”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Attempted Sexual Assault Depicted

The question made her shoulders stiffen. She looked up to meet Bellamy’s eyes and he, too, was startled. Clarke finished up the last stich and used the knife to cut off the excess string. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted herself off of Jasper. Her steps were unsteady and legs stiff from straddling the boy for so long. A bedside table was near, and Clarke put a hand on it to stabilize her self.

Clarke raised her chin to Murphy, who was staring at her intently. “Because I am.” Bellamy took a sharp intake of breath.

“You’re what?” Monty said dumfounded and Clarke watched Murphy’s eyes narrow.

“I’m the Princess.” 

Octavia audibly gulped. Murphy hated the royals, Miller and Monty too. They had lost loved ones under King Jake’s rule. Still, Clarke didn’t flinch away from the disgust in their eyes. She met Murphy and Monty’s glares with straight shoulders and tight lips. Bellamy couldn’t help but admire her for not backing down. On the other hand, he really didn’t want to fight his friends to protect the Princess.

Murphy crossed his arms and took a step forward into Clarke’s personal space.

“If you’re the Princess, give me one reason I shouldn’t avenge my father right here and right now.”

It had been a long night already and Clarke still had to sneak back into the castle. Her patience was at its breaking point. She had been forced to preform surgery, fought off four assailants, killed one, and _really_ didn’t want to deal with Murphy’s shit. Too tired to care anymore, Clarke decided to get sassy.

“I’ll give you two,” she held up her pointer finger, “One, I wouldn’t go down easy and you don’t seem like the kind of guy who tries very hard.” Murphy’s eyebrows rose and she lifted her second finger, “And two, I don’t think any of you want to have to face my mother if I’m killed.”

 Octavia let out a harsh laugh, but quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised by her own outburst. Monty couldn’t help his smirk. Murphy, though, seemed to be dumbfounded. 

He opened his mouth to reply, but Bellamy took a menacing step forward. His front bumped into Clarke’s back and she resisted the urge to lean back, into his shelter.

His voice was low, “Three, I am her sworn knight and if you lay a finger on her I will slice you in half.” Clarke shivered. Who knew Bellamy could be so frightening? She wanted to reach back, put a hand on his arm and tell him it was okay. But that seemed inappropriate. 

Murphy glowered at Bellamy and then turned his eyes back to Clarke.

“My father died, because of yours,” the words weren’t angry anymore. Instead, he sounded sad, bitter.

“Many people died for my father, good people. I am not my father, Sir Murphy, and I am definitely not my mother.” His eyes traveled over her, assessing, and then to the unconscious knight on the bed. 

“You saved my friend tonight, Princess. I won’t forget that. But you are a Griffin and Griffin's are the reason my family is dead.” 

Clarke nodded; this was probably as good as it was going to get with Murphy. He turned to collapse in the bedside chair and some of the tension evaporated. 

“Alright then, I need someone to explain what happened. _Right now_ ,” Bellamy growled, glaring around the room.

The knights exchanged a look. When it became obvious Murphy wasn’t going to talk, Monty did. “It was a coincidence really. We were in town and we heard fighting and shouting coming from an alley, so we went to go see,” Monty gulped. “When we turned the corner we saw four men yelling and grabbing at these two women. Murphy recognized Clarke’s blonde hair and then we realized that Octavia was the woman on the ground.”

Bellamy’s vision went blurry with anger. Octavia on the ground? Four men against two women? Not just that, but women he cared about. He kept his eyes on Monty, sure that if he looked at Clarke and Octavia he would lose his mind and storm out into the streets to find the attackers immediately. 

“We drew our swords and fought to get them away from the girls. Clarke had a knife and she was using it to slice at the two who had her pinned against the wall. One of them had a spear, that’s how Jasper got struck. We managed to fight them off and they ran when they realized they were outmatched.” Monty finished speaking and Bellamy watched his eyes slide to Clarke. She was staring down at her bloody hands, seemingly in a trance. There was something Monty wasn’t telling him.

“Are you hurt?” Bellamy turned to Octavia, worry and rage evident in his eyes.

She shook her head. “No. I could’ve been, but no. Just a few bruises.”

“Did they hit you?” Bellamy’s voice was dark and Clarke felt goose bumps erupt on her skin at the sound. That was the voice of a man who was very close to violence. There were no marks on Octavia’s face that Bellamy could see. Yet. Her hair and clothes were rumbled, and there was still the blood spatter on her front he had noticed earlier.

Octavia’s lip quivered as she looked up at her brother. “Yes.”

Not wasting a minute, Bellamy pulled her to him, encasing the small girl in his arms as she started to sob.

“I was so scared, Bell. The man, he had me on the ground and I tried to fight him, I did, but he hit me and told me to stop moving. He asked one of the other men to help hold me down and then… then he started taking his pants off.”

Bellamy's arms tightened around Octavia painfully. They were dead men. All of them. They had touched his little sister, hit her, and tried to rape her. He would hunt them down tonight and chop their heads off, no questions asked.

“When the third man left Clarke to come hold me down, I guess she managed to get free. She pulled out a knife and was screaming at them to stop. I couldn’t tell what was happening, but I heard them yell out in pain. That’s when Monty, Jasper and Murphy showed up. Jasper got speared, but Monty and Murphy scared them off and then Clarke-”

Bellamy looked at Clarke over the top of Octavia’s head. She was still just staring at her hands. 

“What the fuck were you doing taking my sister out at night alone, Clarke?” his voice was sharp. 

Her blue eyes snapped to his, dumbfounded. Bellamy was mad at _her?_

“Excuse me?”

Bellamy let go of Octavia and stalked over to the blonde. “You almost got my sister killed tonight!”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “You don’t know anything about this town and how dangerous it is! You sit in your castle, drawing and doing what ever the hell you want, and then when you get bored you sneak out and put my _family_ in harms way! You’re selfish, Clarke,” he was screaming now, practically foaming at the mouth.

The sight would’ve been intimidating, if Clarke wasn’t so taken back at what he had said. He thought she was selfish? The words felt like a hot poker to the gut. It hurt, more than she liked to admit. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.

She stood, her nose almost bumping his. Clarke’s voice was surprisingly calm as she spoke, “Octavia wanted to see Lincoln tonight and I went with her so she wasn’t alone.”

“So you convinced her to sneak out, to see an older man, who you _know_ I don’t like? She is fifteen, Clarke!” he loomed over her, anger radiating from his pores. So close, she could count his freckles

The blonde narrowed her eyes. “She would’ve gone to see him, whether I went with her or not. _So, you’re welcome.”_ Bellamy jerked back, realizing he had made a mistake.

“Is that true, O?”

His sister bit her lip. “I didn’t even tell her I was going. Lincoln must’ve said something. She showed up at the door and refused to let me leave without her.”

Bellamy closed his eyes and took a step back. He ran an angry hand through his curls. _Fuck._ Clarke had been looking out for his sister and he had just yelled at her for it. He had called her selfish.

“We will talk about this later,” he ground out. Octavia shrunk a little under his gaze, but nodded.

“Clarke, I’m-” She didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t. I know how you really feel about me, so don’t apologize just because you want to make yourself feel better,” Clarke’s voice was low.

He opened his mouth to say more, but a look in Clarke’s eyes stopped him. Behind her stormy gaze was something he did expect. Anguish. Bellamy would’ve never recognized it if he hadn’t spent so much time with her the past month. His words had wounded her.

Bellamy scanned the rest of her, just now noticing welts along her cheekbones and bruising starting to form on her neck. There was dried blood along her temple and her clothes were more damaged than Octavia’s. He had been so worried about his sister and so mad, he’d blamed it all on Clarke. He found it easy to blame things on her, when she was so privileged and seemingly perfect. How could she ever understand what life was like outside of the castle? What his and Octavia’s life was like before he was a royal guard? But this was not the Princess’s fault. In fact, it looked like she’d been beaten worse than his sister. Bellamy had royally fucked up and guilt hit him hard, filling his chest. 

“So are you going to tell him, or do you want me to?” Murphy interrupted, his eyes on Clarke intently. She stiffened. Something else was going on, but Clarke made no indication she was going to say reveal what it was.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” Bellamy questioned.

Murphy took a deep breath, his eyes glued on Clarke, “When those assholes were running away, the _Princess_ here grabbed one by the back of the neck and yanked him to the ground. You want to tell him the rest, _Princess_?” he raised an eyebrow at her, voice mocking every time he said ‘princess’.

Why would Clarke grab one of the men as he was running away? Had he stolen something from her? Bellamy was confused.

Clarke crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I killed him.”

“You did _what?!”_ Bellamy shouted, but Clarke just stared at him soberly.

Murphy piped in, “Actually, once she had him on the ground, she leaned down in his ear and whispered something we couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it had the man sputtering. _Then,_ she slit his throat. We all just stood there stupidly, unable to believe what the fuck we were seeing.”

Murphy didn’t flinch as Clarke glared at him. The scene had been frightening. Now that they all knew Clarke was the Princess, it seemed like a dream. She had looked so unemotional when she’d swiped her blade across the man’s neck, like she’d killed before. Even now, there was no remorse in her beautiful features.

“Why would you do that?” Bellamy asked her horrified.

Octavia spoke, “It was the man who tried to rape me, Bell.”

He glanced between the two women, trying to understand. Clarke had gone with Octavia to see a boy so she didn’t have to go alone. She had tried to protect his sister, while getting beaten in the process. She had killed his sister’s would be rapist. And then, Clarke had come back to his home and preformed surgery on one of his friend to save his life. 

Clarke gave everyone in the room an unshakable look, “That man hurt Octavia and would’ve done much worse things to her had you three not shown up. A man like that has probably raped before or will rape again.”

“You don’t know that,” Murphy snapped. 

“You’re right, I don’t. What do you think he would’ve done after raping her, though? Huh?” Clarke looked around the room with raised eyebrows. “I don’t think he would’ve just let us go. Sure, go to run and tell the nearest person what just happened!” She paused. “I am the Princess of Ark Kingdom and it is my duty to protect my kingdom. No matter what, I will always protect my people, Sir Murphy, and Octavia is my people. You are my people too, even if you don’t want to be. I will not apologize for killing him.” 

The room was silent, except for Jasper’s labored breathing.

Clarke sighed and her confidence seemingly deflated, “Put something cold on your injuries to keep the swelling down. If any of you need stitches or a tea to help with the pain, you know where to find me,” her gaze fixed on Bellamy, “In the castle, drawing and doing whatever the hell I want.” 

Bellamy winced at his own harsh words being repeated.

“I have to go back now. Monty, make sure you wrap those bandages around Jasper’s wound and change them with clean ones every few hours. Get him to drink water and eat if you can. If he wakes up, let me know.”

“Got it,” Monty said and skirted around the bed to get to work. No one in the room was making eye contact. They were all busy trying to process the Princess’s words. 

Bellamy knew it was time to take Clarke back to the castle, but he hated the idea of leaving Octavia alone after what had just happened. At least she would be safe with Monty and Murphy. Jasper wasn’t waking up anytime soon and his friends made no indication they were going back to their own homes.

 Clarke picked her skirts up to leave, but hesitated when she saw Octavia. The girl was holding herself, shaking a bit. She was going into shock, the events of the past few hours finally catching up with her. Bellamy had to return with her to the castle, she knew, but they couldn’t just leave Octavia.

“Octavia, grab your things. You can stay with me tonight.”

The girl looked up with wide green eyes, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Just hurry, we have to get back before anyone knows I’m gone.”

Bellamy was instantly grateful. It was as if Clarke had read his mind. He added this to the list of things Clarke had done for him and his loved ones tonight. He owed her a massive apology, but it didn’t seem as though Clarke would even be acknowledging his presence anytime soon. Plus, his mind was still reeling from that little speech she had just given.

He helped Octavia pack a few things, set a cloak over her shoulders, and then the three of them left. Bellamy threw his arm around Octavia as they made their way through the castle grounds. It had begun to rain and Octavia leaned heavily against him, thankful for the warmth.

“How did you get out of the castle?” Bellamy’s voice seemed to shake Clarke from some deep thought because she looked at him as if he had magically appeared.

“My guards always fall asleep an hour or so after I go to bed and then I just walk right past.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. Yesterday he had threatened three guards that if they fell asleep while watching the Princess again, he would cut their livers out and eat them for breakfast. They’d all looked terrified and had vowed to stay alert. The Princess was either lying or the guards were dead men. After hearing what else she had done tonight, Bellamy wouldn’t be surprised how much the Princess was hiding.

They reached the edge of the castle and Bellamy was still suspicious. “Wait,” he reached out to halt her, “take this.” He shifted Octavia a little, took off his jacket and handed it to Clarke. It was heavy with water from the rain.

She scrunched her eyebrows, “I’m not cold.”

Rolling his eyes, he threw the jacket over her shoulders, “Good, neither am I. But you’re covered in blood and who knows who we are going to run into inside those castle walls.”

Bellamy was right. Just as they neared the staircase, Marcus Kane came flying down. He nearly ran into Clarke, who jerked back in surprise.

“Clarke!” Kane cried out, eyes roving over Octavia and Bellamy behind her. “What are you doing up so late? And why are you wet?”

Clarke hugged Bellamy’s cloak tighter around herself to hide the blood. “I couldn’t sleep and so Sir Blake suggested a walk around the castle. We got caught in the rain.”

As far as lies went, it was a pretty terrible one. Kane narrowed his eyes, taking in her appearance. There was a swipe of blood on her cheek that was no longer dry, but now dripping from the rain. Thankfully, in the dim light her bruises were not evident.

Clarke knew the lie was shit, but it was too late, she’d already said it. When it doubt, change the subject, or just call the other person out on their bullshit too. “So, Kane, what are _you_ doing up so late? Isn’t your room on the other side of the castle?”

He gulped, “Yes, I found myself unable to sleep as well. Though, decided to walk inside the castle because of the rain.” As lies went, his was as bad as hers.

“Mmhmm.”

It wasn't a secret Kane was sleeping with her mother. But if any of the common people knew she had moved on so fast after King Jake’s death, they would throw a fit and Abby would be in big trouble.  

Kane cleared his throat and ducked his head, “Goodnight, Princess.” Clarke didn’t reply, just followed his movements as he edged past them and paced quickly back to his own room. She turned on her heel and made her way up the stairs. Bellamy and Octavia exchanged a look, and then followed.


	19. Chapter 19

When they got to the room, Octavia shed her clothes and slid into the bed without a word. Clarke and Bellamy watched from the doorway, Clarke still dripping with water. She slid the coat off her shoulders and handed it over and Bellamy took it without a word.

“I know you’re worried about her,” she whispered, “You can stay in here tonight if you’d like. The couch isn’t the most uncomfortable thing in the world.”

Bellamy followed her gesture to the piece of furniture. It didn’t look _that_ bad.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he muttered after a moment. Really, he didn’t want to leave Octavia’s side. The girl was practically snoring already, but if she woke up in the middle of the night panicking, he wanted to be there.

“Fine, do what you want,” Clarke snapped, striding over to the drawing table. He gritted his teeth. She had offered him something nice, trying to be considerate, and he had turned it down. The hole he was digging just got deeper and deeper.

He calmly shut the door behind him and took a seat on the couch. Clarke made no indication she even knew he was there, her shoulders stiff and unmoving. Slowly, he began taking off his boots. The _thunk_ of his sword was dull when it hit the ground.

“You’re not going to sleep?” he asked.

Keeping her back to him, she spoke, “I don’t think I can.”

He wanted to say more, ask why she wasn’t going to bed, but Clarke abruptly stood up and went to the closet. She riffled through it for a moment before emerging with a blanket and what looked like a book. Handing the blanket to Bellamy, she returned to the table.

The tension between them was heavy, and at this point nothing he said was going to make it better. The sound of pencil scribbling on paper put him to sleep.

Bellamy expected to be woken up periodically throughout the night to cries or yelling, but was surprised when he opened his eyes and it was light out. He shot up off the couch, searching the room. Octavia was still sound asleep in Clarke’s bed, her face down in the pillows and arms strewn about and he let out a relieved breath. She had slept through the night soundly.

The next thing he realized was that Clarke was still at the drawing table. Clothes still covered in blood, shoes still on, and back stiff. Her movements were sharp as she drew. It didn’t look like she had even slept.

Bellamy approached the Princess cautiously and her drawing came into view as he stepped closer. It was of a man, one he didn’t recognize.

“Did you sleep at all?” his voice was deep with sleep and Clarke yelped, her body jumping in fright.

“Jesus, you scared me,” she glared over her shoulder, the piece of charcoal broken in her hand.

Bellamy noted the red rings around her eyes, the dark bags under them, and the birds nest her hair had become, but what caught most of his attention were the bruises. The entire left side of her face was swollen and blotched with deep purple. A swipe of dried blood flaked around her hairline and he physically clenched his fists when he saw the angry red and blue handprints around her neck. 

“Sorry,” he muttered and she turned back to the drawing, huffing in annoyance. “You didn’t sleep at all did you?” he repeated.

She shook her head, fingers playing with the broken bits of charcoal.

“You need sleep, Clarke. Especially after last night.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re being reckless and not taking care of yourself for no damn good reason. You need rest or you’ll just feel worse!

She stood angrily, hand slamming into the table, and Bellamy took an instinctive step back. The Princess was pissed, and he had to admit, a bit intimidating. 

“Let me make one thing very clear, _Sir Blake,”_ she spit the words at him, “You are not in charge of me. You are not my father, you are not my brother, and you are not my husband, so stop acting like it. I am not yours to take care of.”

The viciousness of her words hit hard. Bellamy had only wanted to make sure Clarke was taking care of herself, but perhaps he had overstepped. She was the Princess and he was her knight. He was trying to treat her like she was Octavia, but Clarke was not his sister. Maybe his protectiveness stemmed from the guilt he felt for not being able to protect her last night. 

Clarke’s hand was shaking on the table and she quickly clenched it into a fist to hide the tremor. Sir Blake had yelled at her for being selfish, for being privileged. He resented her and her status and had blamed her for the attack last night. Now he wanted to act like he was worried about her? The man could go to hell for all she cared. He knew nothing of her life growing up in the castle. Sure, she had always gotten everything she had asked for, but it never made her feel less lonely. Even with Wells, there had always been a gap in their relationship they couldn’t quite cross. Her parents had loved her, she knew, but they had not loved each other. Their constant fighting still filtered through her thoughts. Bellamy knew nothing of the torments she put her body through every night to be ready when the men came to kill her. He knew nothing of the sleepless nights, where every time she closed her eyes her father was there, dead, blood cascading down his neck. He knew nothing of what it was like to be betrayed by the woman she loved. And then to be betrayed again by Finn, the one bright spot she had found after her father’s murder. Wells’ death was the final straw. Every minute Clarke wondered if this was it. Would this be the moment someone snuck up on her to slice her throat? Was her wine poisoned? Would her mom even care when she was dead?

“Bell?” a childlike voice broke Bellamy and Clarke out of their staring match. He turned instantly towards the bed, towards Octavia calling him, and Clarke deflated back into the chair.

“I’m here, O,” he said softly, coming up to her side. Bellamy began brushing the matted hair out of her face, searching for bruises. There was a single welt on the left side of her face, where she had been struck. The mark was dark, but small, and Bellamy thanked god she didn’t look as bad as Clarke. Immediately, he wished he could take it the thought back. Clarke didn’t deserve the beating anymore than his sister. In fact, from the story Monty told, it sounded like Clarke had fought the men to try and save Octavia, heedless of her own abuse. 

“I heard you guys fighting.” 

Bellamy glanced at Clarke, but she was staring out the window, face blank.

“Sorry, O,” he dropped a kiss on her temple, just happy to know that she was alive and healthy. Octavia smiled up at him, but her eyes quickly darkened when she looked at Clarke. The light from the sun was hitting the Princess directly in the face, making the bruises look ten times worse.

“Oh my god, Clarke!” Octavia cried, shoving her way out of the bed and past Bellamy. She threw her arms around the blonde, “I don’t know how to thank you.” The sound was muffled by Clarke’s hair. 

Clarke gingerly patted the girl on the back, trying not to flinch at how hard she was squeezing. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she had a broken rib or two.

“You don’t need to thank me, Octavia.” The dark haired girl pulled back, eyes searching the Princess’s beaten face. “I am just happy you’re okay.”

Bellamy watched the encounter without a word.

Octavia nodded, swiping a few tears away, “Why didn’t you sleep last night, Clarke?”

Clarke dropped her eyes to her lap and took a shallow breath. She spoke so quietly, Bellamy could barely hear. “I knew if I closed my eyes I was going to see them. The man on top of you. The ones that hammered me into the wall. I knew I would hear you crying out for help and me not being able to get to you,” Clarke shook her head and Bellamy felt a sudden urge to pull her into his arms. To tell her she was okay, that she was safe, to thank her for taking care of his sister. He wanted to tell her he would never let anything like that happen to her again. “I knew that I would see my dad too. See him lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, his head barely connected to the rest of his body. Me, begging him to wake up.”

Octavia didn’t say a word, just wrapped her arms around Clarke fiercely. He expected Clarke to cry and sob in Octavia’s arms. Instead, she simply let the younger girl hold her for a few moments and then pulled back.

There was a knock on the door and all three of them exchanged glances. Eventually, Bellamy stood to answer. It was Harper. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. Harper greeted him kindly with a tray of steaming food in her hands and he took a step to the side to let her in. She stopped short when she saw Clarke’s damaged face and Octavia on her knees in front of her.

“Do I want to know?” Harper asked calmly, sliding Clarke’s drawing book off the table to make room for the tray.

Clarke met the handmaiden’s eyes, “Probably not.” The two shared a look, before Harper shook her head in disapproval and left. She gave Bellamy a final parting glance that he couldn’t interpret.

Breakfast was a mostly silent affair. Only Bellamy and Octavia really talked, so mostly Octavia. She chatted happily as if nothing was wrong, asking Clarke questions that only got one word replies. Realizing it was a lost cause; she turned her attention on Bellamy. He answered her around mouthfuls of food, but they both watched Clarke out of the corner of their eyes. She barely ate.

“I was hoping to go to the stables today,” Octavia said brightly and Bellamy stopped chewing.

“Why?”

Octavia looked between Clarke and Bellamy, her eyes nervous. “I want to see Lincoln.” 

“Why?” he snapped, harsher this time.

“To tell him I’m okay. I don’t know if he heard about what happened last night, but I just want to see him. Please, Bell?” the girl begged. He glared, not liking the idea one bit.

“I don’t decide where I go everyday, Clarke does.”

Octavia turned her pouted lip to the Princess.

“Please, Clarke?”

The blonde shrugged, “Sure, I don’t care. Just let me get changed.”

“Thank you!” Octavia swooped over to give Clarke a kiss on the cheek. Clarke smiled slightly and excused herself from the table, but Bellamy just glowered. He was hoping Clarke wouldn’t want to go anywhere today.

 

The walk to the stables was uneventful. Clarke had tried to hide her bruises with makeup and even managed to wash her hair and put it in a nice braid, but anyone that looked at her too long could see she was a mess. She hadn’t slept in two days, her body hurt, and every facial expression she made, caused her to flinch in pain. 

Octavia had asked to borrow a dress, and Clarke had happily given her a pink one. It was one of her least favorite colors, but on Octavia it looked great. The dress hung a little big on the small girl, but she didn’t seem to mind. Clarke had opted for a green dress, hoping the dark color choice would gather more attention than her obviously injured body.

Bellamy walked next to Clarke, studying her. The girl was definitely in pain. She hobbled a little with each step and was walking slower than normal. A tight arm was wrapped around her waist, as if she were trying very hard to hold herself upright. But as much as he noticed, Bellamy had to admit Clarke hid it well. Her face showed no signs of discomfort and he would’ve never noticed her limp if he didn’t already know how she normally walked.

As they neared the stables, Octavia raced ahead. Bellamy cursed under his breath, but stayed with Clarke at her slower pace.

When they rounded the corner, Lincoln and Octavia were in the center of the long barn hall. His hands were on her cheeks, studying her face intently as she hurriedly spoke. Bellamy didn’t like the idea of his sister with the older boy, but in that moment, watching Lincoln look at her with worried eyes, he couldn’t be too upset. Lincoln obviously cared for her deeply. 

Lincoln pulled away from Octavia when he saw Clarke and Bellamy approaching.

“Clarke,” Lincoln said and Octavia stepped up to take one of his hands in her own, tear tracks visible on her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

He reached out to Clarke with his free hand, brushing a strand of hair off her face and Clarke flinched at the touch. Even in the dark lighting, the bruises were visible. Watching the moment, Bellamy felt a pang of jealousy. Not only was Lincoln holding hands with his sister, he was touching Clarke as well. This man was special to them both, cared about them both and it made Bellamy unexplainably envious.

“I’m fine,” she said, taking a step back from the large man, arms wrapped tightly around her middle. He watched her retreat, his dark eyes full of concern.

Lincoln shook his head in guilt, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve walked you both home.”

“Yes, you should have,” Bellamy snapped, and for the first time since arriving Lincoln seemed to notice Sir Blake was there. The two men met eyes, anger visible in their tight posture.

“It was a mistake-”

“A big one,” Bellamy growled.

Octavia stepped in between them, hands rising to press on both of their chests, “Bell, this wasn’t Lincoln’s fault.”

“He let you both walk home alone! If he had been with you, those men would’ve never attacked you. She-” he pointed at Clarke’s face angrily, “wouldn’t look like a punching bag and you,” he swung his finger to Octavia, “wouldn’t have even been touched.”

Clarke’s blue eyes were wide and Octavia’s shone with unshed tears. Bellamy was shaking with rage, his body pressing hard against Octavia’s outstretched hand. Was he going to hit Lincoln? Push his sister aside, and start beating the man he hated so much?

“It was a grave mistake that I will never be able to forgive myself for,” Lincoln said seriously.

“You’re lucky I even allow Octavia to see you after what happened!”

Octavia jerked back from her brother, into Lincoln’s chest, “I am not property, Bellamy.”

Bellamy felt a sudden urge to yank Octavia away, drag her back to their home and never let her leave. But, she was hiding from his anger in the arms of another man. A man, Bellamy realized, he was pushing her towards with his fury.

“Bellamy,” someone said, grabbing onto his bicep. Body still taunt with anger, he lurched away from the touch. But it was just Clarke, wide eyed and staring up at him. Her gaze was begging him to stop.

“Bellamy, this isn’t Lincoln’s fault,” she said softly. His eyes swept her face, angry flaring again at the sight of the bruises. “It’s no one’s fault but the men who attacked us,” she squeezed his arm, begging him to listen. She looked so earnest, and it was like someone pulled a plug and all of the anger drained from his body. Clarke was right. He was upset at what had happened to the women and was taking it out on everyone he could. Lincoln was not to blame; in fact he could see on the man’s face how guilty he felt.

Clarke tugged at his arm harshly, making sure he really was hearing her, “I am okay. Octavia is okay. I _know_ you’re upset, because you feel bad, Bellamy. You feel guilty that you weren’t there to protect us. You feel bad because Octavia is your sister and I am your… I’m the Princess… and it’s your job to keep us safe. We don’t blame you, Bellamy. So, stop blaming yourself.”

He gulped, trying to push down the lump that had solidified in his throat. Clarke was right, as much as he hated to admit, he felt like he should’ve been there. He would give anything to have been there to protect them. The guilt only intensified every time he looked at Clarke. He couldn’t stop from imagining each hit, her cries of pain, big hands wrapped around her throat.

Slowly, he turned his gaze from Clarke to the other two people in the hallway. She kept her grip on his arm and he felt grateful. For some odd reason, it felt like if she stopped touching him, the anger would come flooding back.

Lincoln stood with his front to Octavia’s back, a solid hand on her shoulder as they had watched the interaction with wide eyes. Clarke and Bellamy fought like cats and dogs, constantly snarling at each other and disagreeing, but somehow Clarke had calmed Bellamy down with a touch and a look. It was… unnerving. Octavia had never been able to reason with her brother when he was so mad. Usually, she had to just wait it out until he cooled off and returned with a more level head. How had the Princess, who Bellamy hated, immediately consoled him?

Bellamy wanted to apologize for his behavior, he really did, but the words didn’t come. He was a proud man and apologizing to the man who was currently comforting his sister was not easy. Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, but Lincoln shook his head.

“Don’t. You don’t need to apologize. We both fucked up.”

“I’m going to let you three talk,” Clarke said, taking a step to leave.

“Where are you going?” Bellamy asked, suddenly panicked. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

“Just to the pavilion out there,” she pointed to the other end of the barn hallway, “You’ll be able to see me from the doorway.”

He clenched his jaw, but nodded. They walked down the hall, stopping when they reached the sun. Clarke left them; retreating towards the small structure, braid swinging in motion with her limp. 

“Has her mother seen her yet?” Lincoln asked lowly, eyes still on the Princess as she dropped to her knees in the middle of the pavilion.

Bellamy shook his head, “No.” He had been thinking about that this morning. What would the Queen do when she saw her daughter was a walking injury? It was his job to make sure things like this didn’t happen. Would he lose his job? Would he be whipped or have his knighthood stripped? What would Octavia and he do if he lost the steady income?

“She saved me, Lincoln,” Octavia said quietly, “She had a knife, she fought them off, screamed for them to get off of me. If Clarke hadn’t been there, I… I don’t think I would even be alive.”

Lincoln looked down at Octavia, taking in her words. “Clarke protects her own. She always has.”

“It’s my fault.”

He shook his head vigorously, “No its not. You heard what Clarke said. It’s no ones fault, but the people who attacked you.”

Octavia sobbed, burying her head in Lincoln’s shoulder. His arms wrapped around her in comfort and Bellamy put a steadying hand on her back, meeting Lincoln’s eyes over her dark head of hair. In that moment, Bellamy realized he could never hate Lincoln. How could he hate a man that clearly loved his sister? A man that wanted to protect her just as much as he did.

“Octavia.” The girl sniffled. “Can you give Lincoln and I a moment?”

She lifted her head, searching between the two men skeptically. “Only if you promise not to kill each other.”

Lincoln chuckled, “We’ll stand on either side of the barn if it makes you feel better.”

Giving each of them a kiss on the cheek and a nervous smile, Octavia followed Clarke out to the pavilion.

“She’s all I have,” Bellamy said, when Octavia was out of earshot. He didn’t like being vulnerable around strangers, but Lincoln needed to understand. Lincoln nodded, recalling how Octavia had told him all about their abusive father and absent mother.

“I know. I don’t want to take her away from you.”

They stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing what to say.

“If you hurt her…” The threat was obvious.

“I wont,” Lincoln sounded so sincere, Bellamy had no choice but to believe him, so he nodded sharply.

Lincoln cleared his throat, a sign that the tension of the moment was easing. They’d barely said anything, but something between the two men was clear anyway. Octavia was to be protected and loved at all costs.

“I’m worried about, Clarke,” Lincoln said, changing the subject and turning towards the pavilion. Clarke was still on her knees, but Octavia sat next to her, an arm wrapped around the older girl’s shoulders. From here, the Princess looked smaller than Octavia, tucked into her arms the way she was.

“Me too,” Bellamy ground his teeth. “She’s been rash lately. Throwing herself into everything, not caring if she gets hurt in the process.”

Lincoln’s eyes slid to Bellamy, who was watching the two women intently. “Clarke’s always been reckless. It’s how she deals with her loneliness… It’s just gotten worse lately.”

Bellamy didn’t understand, and it must’ve shown on his face, because Lincoln took a deep breath to explain. “Her mother never really loved her. Everything unique about Clarke, Abby shoved into a box and told her to ignore.” Bellamy nodded, remembering how Clarke had talked about her mother threatening to kill her if she found her with another woman. “King Jake loved her, sure, but he never stood up for Clarke against Abby. He allowed his wife to pick Clarke apart piece by piece until all that was left was a shell of a person. Wells loved Clarke for Clarke, but now he’s dead. And even before he was killed, they had started drifting apart. Wells wanted a wife and children, wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. When he realized Clarke wasn’t going to be that person for him, he left,” Lincoln paused, allowing Bellamy a moment.

“Clarke was with a woman once.” Bellamy’s head jerked in surprise, but Lincoln just smiled and nodded, “She was. And then that woman took a secret of Clarke’s, told the Queen, and the next day King Jake was dead.” Bellamy’s mind was reeling, but Lincoln continued, “Finn told her he loved her, then cheated on her. And to top it all off, Clarke is convinced her mother is actively trying to have her killed.”

Lincoln met him with hard eyes, “Clarke is alone, Bellamy, and yet she continues to sacrifice herself for everyone around her. She constantly does things for others that no one has ever done for her. Why? _Because she is good_. Because no matter what has happened to her, she wants to save people who need saved. She cares about the kingdom, even though it doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her.” 

Bellamy shook his head, “That’s not true. There are people who care about her.”

Lincoln gave Bellamy a weird look, and then shrugged, “Try telling her that.”

 

 

Clarke was wrapped up in Octavia’s arms, thankful for the heat the young girl was supplying. Male voices could be heard behind the, speaking softly.

“I think we better go before it rains,” Bellamy said. Octavia’s head popped up to look at the two men. She didn’t see any blood, thankfully. Bellamy had a grim look on his face and his arms on his hips and Lincoln was also straight faced, but at least they weren’t trying to kill each other.

“C’mon, Clarke,” Octavia said. She helped the Princess up and Clarke struggled to stand, trying to hide pained sounds as her ribs protested.

 Bellamy took the steps two at a time, reaching out to help Octavia prop Clarke up.

“Thanks,” she whispered softly when his hands came around her middle. 

“I think you need to see a doctor, Clarke.”

“I guess my mom is going to find out sooner or later,” the blonde joked as the Blake’s helped her down the stairs.

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Bellamy rolled his eyes, as she chuckled and gave him a small smile.

“I had no idea this was back here,” Bellamy jerked his head towards the pavilion as they walked away. Clarke and Lincoln exchanged a look.

“It’s new,” she said.

It seemed like she wanted to say more, but he didn’t push.

“My father loved the stables,” Clarke said a moment later, “Lincoln built the pavilion as a memorial for him. And for me. No one really knows its here, but that’s the way my dad would’ve wanted it.”

Bellamy glanced at Lincoln for a moment. Octavia, too, turned to look at him, but he was glancing far off into the distance, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sure he would’ve loved it,” Bellamy said, meaning it, and Clarke smiled.

Octavia begged to stay with Lincoln in the stables while Bellamy escorted Clarke back to the castle. He begrudgingly agreed, on the condition that Lincoln would walk Octavia home that night. Both women watched the weird interaction with curious eyes as Lincoln swore to keep her safe and Bellamy nodded stiffly. They shook hands and Clarke and Octavia almost gasped. That must've been some talk. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

After the shock that Clarke had killed someone and his sister had almost been raped subsided, things seemed to oddly go back to normal. Whatever normal was. Octavia had stayed with Clarke almost every night since. Some nights she would wake up screaming and he would fly through the door, ready to help, but Clarke would already be awake comforting her.

Queen Abby had had a fit when she’d seen Clarke’s face, telling her she couldn’t go to court looking like that. Her concern was not for Clarke’s health, but for her appearance. She hadn’t even berated him for not doing his job, like he’d expected. Bellamy wondered if she’d even asked Clarke what had happened. When someone did ask, Clarke just claimed she had fallen on the stairs. It was a blatant lie and anyone with brain cells could see the fingerprint bruises where someone had tried to strangle her, but people accepted it without question.

Nevertheless, nothing particularly exciting had happened in the past few weeks. In fact, Bellamy would almost call this week boring. Clarke had continued going to court when it was held and he dutifully stood by her side. What was entertaining was watching her actually participate in court. Each time an interesting complaint was presented, Clarke listened carefully, nodding her head or squinting her eyes to think. Abby would always reply first, offering her solution, but Clarke would pipe in to add something.

‘Perhaps that punishment is too harsh’ ‘Do you really think that will keep him from doing it again?’ ‘I wonder if another solution might be better’. And his personal favorite, ‘Of course, Mother. The Queen’s voice is law after all.’

It was a backhanded and devious strategy to undermine the Queen and something he could never effectively do himself. But Clarke had grown up in the castle, in the world of politics, she knew how to manipulate people with a seemingly innocent sentence. The best part was it seemed to be working. People had begun actually listening to what Clarke had to say. They took her suggestions with the same value they did Abby’s. Sometimes, they seemed to agree with her more than the Queen. It pissed Abby off to no end, but Clarke just smiled, pretending she didn’t know what she was doing and Bellamy hid his smirks.

Court was wrapping up for the day and Bellamy was grateful. He had been standing in one position for more than four hours now and his legs could really use a break. The Queen was rising to leave, everyone else in the room stuck waiting for her to exit first, when people began shouting from outside the throne room doors.

Abby immediately sat back down, her shoulders stiff and eyes trained on the door. Clarke perked up as well, hands grasping at the sides of her chair. The royal guard scooted closer to the two women, hands on their swords, Bellamy included. The room quieted as the yelling came closer, until finally the door was thrown open and a scary looking group of people entered.

The Grounders strode into the room glaring, their weapons clanging loudly at their sides. Their brown fur clothing and tribal tattoos were a stark contrast to the formally dressed people in the room and men and women stumbled back to get out of the way. Bellamy noticed a body being drug behind one of the Grounder men and stiffened. Oh, this was not good.

A fierce looking girl with black war paint around her eyes stepped forward from the group, her eyes trained on the Griffin women. No, not both women, Bellamy realized. She was focused on Clarke.

Clarke stared right back, jaw clenched, and hands gripping the chair so hard her knuckles were white. Unlike the rest of the people in the room, Clarke didn’t seem scared. Even Abby looked a little frightened of the Grounders, but not the Princess, she just looked pissed.

“Clarke,” the Grounder girl barked.

“Lexa,” Clarke snapped right back.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Queen’s voice was high as she tried to get a handle on the situation. Lexa ignored her; instead she gestured behind her and spoke in a language Bellamy didn’t understand. The body he had noticed earlier was drug forward and slung on the ground at Lexa’s feet.

He heard Clarke take a sharp intake of breath and members of the crowd gasped. Many of them had not noticed the man’s body beforehand, too distracted by the intimidating warriors.

“I have brought you a murderer, Clarke. My people were angry when they found out what he’d done, but I convinced them that we must come here and tell the Queen of his crimes.”

Bellamy knew the Grounders had different customs than the other people of Ark. Before King Jake had ‘united’ the kingdom, the Grounders were their own entity. They had clans, ruled by one commander, and their own set of rules. King Jake had given them a choice, fight with him to unify the land or fight against him and lose. The choice was simple, the Grounders wanted to live. After he had won the wars, King Jake had made the Grounders an official part of the kingdom. They hadn’t asked for it, but King Jake made it seem like a gift and the Grounders were too outmatched to refuse.

In the new kingdom, Grounders were not allowed to follow their own rules or leader. They answered to the Crown. They were also forced to pay heavy taxes, but as far as he knew the royals didn’t monitor the clans closely. Grounders still elected their own leaders, though not officially, and they still stuck to an unspoken code. The common people of Ark Kingdom saw Grounders as barbaric people, wild, and vicious and knights dare not stray onto Grounder land, for fear they get killed. Bellamy often wondered what would happen if the clans were able to get over their petty squabbles and unite. Would they stand a chance of fighting for freedom against the royal militia?

Lexa was obviously one of their chosen leaders, but Bellamy found it curious she was addressing Clarke and not Abby, the real Queen. Another thing was painfully obvious to him- Clarke and Lexa knew each other. They were practically throwing daggers with their eyes and Lexa had no intention of addressing the Princess as anything other than ‘Clarke’.

The brunette Grounder leaned down, lifting the man’s head up by his hair to reveal his face. The body groaned and Bellamy blinked in surprise. He was alive? Bellamy’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the pretty features and black floppy hair of the beaten man.

“And what are his crimes?” Clarke spoke, voice low as she stared at Finn’s bloody face.

“He killed three of our villagers. In cold blood. Two women and a child.”

The Princess gulped and Lexa dropped Finn back to the ground unceremoniously.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Ask him when he wakes up.”

Abby tried to speak, but was cut short when Clarke rose from her seat.

“This is not a matter to discuss in court,” Clarke clasped her hands together in front of her, shoulders straight.

“A life is owed, Clarke,” Lexa growled, feeling like she was being dismissed, “Blood must have blood!”

“Enough!” the Princess snapped and Lexa paused, eyes growing wide. She hadn’t expected that reaction and neither had anyone else. “Guards, have Sir Collins put in the dungeon for now.”

Knights immediately moved to do as the Princess commanded, but Lexa drew her sword over the unconscious man. “No, Clarke! You will not take him until you promise me these deaths will be avenged. He deserves to die for what he’s done.”

Clarke looked around the room, eyes falling on her mother who was still trying to say something, but failing. She shook her head in disgust and brought her eyes back to the fearsome young Grounder.

“I cannot promise you revenge, Lexa.”

The woman snarled in response, pointing her sword towards the Princess and Bellamy took a protective step forward. He didn’t know what this Grounder was about to do, but he did know he could draw he sword and push Clarke out of the way by the time she made it up the throne steps.

Looking unperturbed by the weapon being pointed in her direction, Clarke continued, “Blood must not always have blood, Lexa. I cannot promise you revenge, but I can promise you justice.”

The Grounders shifted on their feet, unnerved. Justice. Clarke promised justice, not revenge. In that moment, she was more Queenly than Abby had ever been. Clarke stood, eyeing down a Grounder, looking incredibly strong, and promised fairness.

Still glaring, Lexa resigned to sheath her weapon and step back from Finn. The knights hustled to haul him away.

“What is fairness, if not one life for another?” Lexa asked.

The Princess stared and stared at Lexa, her face growing tight, until finally she turned to Miller, “Have her brought to the library.” He nodded at the order and Clarke turned to leave the throne room. She paused, almost out the back door, “And get her people something to eat.”

Clarke strode out, leaving the entire room to digest what had just happened. Bellamy hustled out after her, now very used to chasing the Princess when she made dramatic exits. Slowly, it began to dawn on people still in the room that the Princess had left before the Queen. Knights fought to herd people out of the room, while the Grounders were escorted to the kitchen. Three knights followed Abby as she quietly made her exit through the back door; opposite of the one Clarke had gone.

For the people of Ark Kingdom in the crowd that day and for the Grounders, something had changed. Something, that was a long time coming. Abby was the Queen, but Princess Clarke was in charge.

 

Clarke could barely see in front of her as she rushed through the castle. Finn had killed people, women and a child. Lexa was here. Lexa wanted her to sentence Finn to death. Her mother just sat there like an idiot the whole time and Lexa had made it clear she wanted Clarke to make the decision. God, what was she going to do? The punishment for murder was death, but the Grounders had their own customs for dealing with criminals that usually involved brutal, horrific pain.

She burst into the library and collapsed against one of the shelves. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t breathe, and the ground seemed to be coming closer.

Without warning a strong body was behind her. She vaguely felt herself being held and a deep voice calling her name. Breathe, Clarke, breathe. She was falling, tumbling into a black abyss.

Clarke came too with her forehead pressed into a stack of books. Her hands felt like claws as they clung onto the wooden shelf above her head and her face was wet with tears.

“You’re okay, Clarke. You’re okay. Just breathe, Princess,” a man was whispering in her ear and there was a pair of legs on either side of hers. Someone was holding her tightly against their chest as she shook. Vaguely, she recognized the voice.

“That’s it. Deep breaths,” he murmured. Bellamy. It was Bellamy behind her.

She took a deep breath and rasped, “I’m fine, Bellamy.” His hand stopped its movement on her back.

“You sure?”

She nodded against the books, and pulled herself up straight. Bellamy shifted backwards, scrambling to rise up with her.

“Sorry,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. Clarke ran a hand through her hair and used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead and salty tears from her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her knight had just coaxed her through a panic attack. Pathetic.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Clarke,” his voice was strong, drawing her attention. She forced herself to look at him. Bellamy was adjusting his belt but his eyes were trained on her and full of worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clarke almost cried again at how concerned he sounded.

“I’m okay,” she sniffed and righted her shoulders. Lexa would be brought here at any moment. Hell if she was going to cry in front of her.

Bellamy recognized the change in Clarke’s posture. She had allowed herself a single moment of weakness, but only one, and now it was time to box it all up again. Clarke steeled her features and tried to breathe deeply as she sat down in one of the library’s two plush chairs. Bellamy shifted uncomfortably. She obviously wasn’t okay, but pushing Clarke only resulted in getting pushed back.

“Okay,” he nodded, not believing her.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Bellamy moved to open it and wasn’t surprised to find Miller and Lexa on the other side. Three Grounder men and two other knights stood behind them stoically.

Lexa peered beyond Bellamy to Clarke sitting in the chair looking perfectly composed. Using her foreign tongue she snapped something at her guards, who snapped right back. The language was harsh and Bellamy thought he caught a few words he recognized, but couldn’t be sure.

Lexa looked to Bellamy, “My guards are staying out here, as will you.”

He shook his head, “Absolutely not.”

Lexa ground her teeth together in agitation and swiped the sword off her waist in one smooth motion. Bellamy didn’t even have time to react as she dropped it on the ground.

“There. I’m not here to harm the Princess.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. He didn’t plan on leaving Clarke alone with the Grounder even if she didn’t have her weapon.

“Sir Blake, we will be fine,” Clarke called from inside the room. He gave her a disbelieving look. She returned it with a raised eyebrow. This was way too similar to the time he had left Clarke alone with Raven.

“Fine,” he growled, stepping around Lexa and into the hallway. The young Grounder shut the door in his face and Bellamy had to keep himself from cursing. He positioned himself in front of the door completely. The tiniest sound and he would be the first one into the room, sword drawn.

 

Lexa gave Clarke a strange look as she entered the library. “He cares about you.”

“Who?”

“Your knight. He cares about you.” Lexa dropped down into the empty chair.

Clarke gave her a steely look, “It’s his job to protect me.”

She shrugged, looking all too comfortable, “Maybe, but it seems like more than just that.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business and start talking about why you’re really here?”

Clarke had had enough of her mind games and oh was Lexa good at those. 

“I already told you why I am here. Finn murdered three of my people. He must pay for their lives with his own.”

Clarke leaned back in the chair slightly, “If what you say is true, then you’re right. Finn will be sentenced to death,” Lexa opened her mouth, but Clarke continued speaking, “After I talk to him.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes, “You don’t believe me.”

“Why should I?”

“Why would I lie?”

“For the same reason you betrayed me. You care about nobody but yourself, Lexa.”

“I care about my people, Clarke,” Lexa’s snapped and Clarke nodded solemnly.

“I used to think that included me.”

There was a pregnant pause. Lexa and Clarke had been in love and Clarke had trusted her with her biggest secret. Then, Lexa had told the Queen in exchange for a favor for her people. The next day King Jake was murdered.

Lexa didn’t seem to know what to say, but something that looked like guilt passed over her face.

“Did you mean what you said? That fairness is one life for another?” Clarke asked darkly, blue eyes narrowing. The question was about more than just Finn and they both knew it.

“I did.”

Lexa stood, attempting to leave, but Clarke was on her in a second. She shoved the Grounder against the bookshelf, rocking the entire thing and causing a few books to wobble and fall.

“A life for a life,” Clarke growled, her hand flying upward to hold a sharp knife to Lexa’s neck. Where the hell had she gotten that?

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t do it,” Clarke snarled in Lexa’s face, looking feral.

The knife was pressed harder, drawing blood. Lexa was frightened, her eyes wide, and hands held up as a show of surrender. This was a Clarke she didn’t recognize. One who reacted first and thought about the consequences later.

 

Bellamy heard the commotion coming from inside and was through the door instantly. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Clarke had Lexa pinned against the bookshelf, a knife held to her throat as she growled in the Grounder’s ear. Clarke’s blonde hair hid her face, but he could see Lexa. She looked stunned, the black war paint making her wide eyes pop.

“Clarke?” he questioned. She didn’t turn, her focus solely on the Grounder woman.

Her voice was low, threatening, “You can’t give me one, can you? Your life for my father’s. Its only fair, you said so yourself.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy snapped louder. The Grounder guards and other knights were piling in behind him. If she didn’t let go, the Grounders would attack. He didn’t want a fight with them and definitely didn’t want the Princess to get hurt. Would Clarke seriously slice Lexa’s throat in the middle of the library? His gut told him she was capable.

A tear ran down Lexa’s cheek, “I can’t, Clarke. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

Looking over Clarke’s shoulder, she barked something at her guards and they stopped mid-step, not liking the order, but heeding it anyway. Her eyes traveled back to the blonde in front of her.

Bellamy stepped closer, attempt to separate them when he saw Clarke’s hand shake. In fact, her entire body was trembling. With a disgusted sound, Clarke shoved Lexa farther into the bookshelf and stepped back. Bellamy yanked Clarke towards the chairs, positioning himself in front of her, unsure of how the Grounders would retaliate.

“Get her out of here!” Clarke shouted from behind him and the royal guards and Grounders hustled to get Lexa out. The two women shared a final unreadable look. The door shut and Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief.

“What the hell was that?”

 

Clarke was staring at the library door, hand still clenched around the knife like a vice. Her hair was in disarray and her chest heaved with hard breaths.

Apparently, Clarke wasn’t going to answer, so Bellamy turned around to face her completely. “And where did you get the knife?”

“Raven,” she bit out and Bellamy almost groaned. Of course Raven had given Clarke a knife. Where had she even been keeping it? Her dress was skintight. Not that he noticed that kind of thing…

“Clarke-”

“She’s the reason my father is dead.” The bluntness of the statement made Bellamy’s mouth drop. “I told her something, something I shouldn’t have and she told my mom. My mom didn’t want it getting out to the public and my father did, so she helped to have him killed.”

Lexa was the woman Lincoln had told him about. He didn’t know what was more surprising- that Clarke was sharing her painful past with him or that Clarke had been in love with a Grounder.

Bellamy shook his head, “I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

“I loved her. I trusted her, Bellamy, and now my father is dead,” her voice broke on the last word. He didn’t know he was moving forward until he did, wrapping Clarke in his sturdy body. She buried into his chest and cried. The knife clattered to the floor, but Bellamy only tightened his arms.

They stood like that for a few minutes, until Clarke pulled back, rubbed her face and attempted to fix her hair. When she took a shaky breath, he just smiled at her grimly. They didn’t need to speak. Everything that needed to be said was already shown through Bellamy’s compassion and Clarke’s rare vulnerability.

Bellamy escorted her back through the castle, walking in front the entire time so Clarke could hide her blotchy face.


	21. Chapter 21

Clarke and Bellamy ate lunch in her room. They were silent except for the sounds of Clarke’s soft sniffles.

“I’m going to have to sentence him to death.”

Bellamy looked up from his meal. Usually he just grabbed food from the kitchens when he could, but today Harper had brought in twice the amount of meats and cheeses and an entire loaf of bread and Clarke had insisted they just eat together.

It was nice, sort of. If Clarke wasn’t so upset and he didn’t feel so awkward.

“Isn’t that the Queen’s job?” Bellamy asked cautiously. Clarke’s haunted eyes met his. 

“You saw the way Lexa addressed me, not my mother. She made it my decision.”

Clarke was right.

“Do you think he did it?”

Clarke looked out the widow a moment, pondering, before answering.

“I don’t know why he would, but yes. Yes, I think he probably did.”

Bellamy agreed. Lexa didn’t seem like the kind of person to make such a story up and what would she get out of lying? They finished their lunch in relative silence… until someone busted through the door startling them both.

“Finn’s awake, Clarke,” Kane rushed to say between breaths. Obviously he’d run up the stairs, “He’s asking for you.”  
Clarke was out of her seat in a moment, following Kane down to the dungeon.

“Is my mother on her way?”

Kane nodded, “I told her first. She may already be there.” No surprise, Abby was going to try and take control of the situation. It didn’t matter that the Grounders expected Clarke to be in charge, Abby still had the title.

Queen Abby was in fact there by the time they arrived. The dungeons were cold and dark and smelled of mildew, but her red dress stood out even in the scarce light.

They could hear Finn’s raspy voice.

“I want to talk to, Clarke.” 

“Lord Collins, may I remind you that I am the Queen and you are currently in my dungeon. You’ll speak to me if you ever plan on getting out of here.”

“Mom!” Clarke cried out, horrified. She pushed past her mother, kneeling so that she was in front of Finn. He looked awful, leaned up against the bars, legs strewn awkwardly in front of him, and face damaged from beatings.

“I’m here, Finn,” Clarke said softly, throwing a dirty look over her shoulder at Abby.

“ _Clarke_ ,” he rasped, reaching for her, “Clarke, I’m so sorry.”

She took his hand.

“Is it true, Finn? Did you kill those people?”

He nodded, a single tear making its way down his cheek. Clarke hung her head- she hadn’t wanted it to be true.

“Why?” she squeezed his hand, “Why would you do that?”

He shook his head back and forth slowly, “I was so angry, Clarke. Angry at you and Raven. I wanted to get away for a little while, so I left, but my carriage broke down so I tried walking back, but then they were there. The Grounders scared me, I couldn’t understand what they were saying and they had all these weapons,” he paused, “I don’t know why I did it. I grabbed one of the swords and …” he couldn’t finish and Clarke was grateful. Her stomach was churning from the story and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the rest. 

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Clarke said softly. Finn nodded.

“I deserve it.”

Clarke closed her eyes, letting a few tears slip out. As much as she hated Finn for the awful things he said and did to her and Raven, she didn’t want to watch him die.

“I’ll make sure it’s quick,” she promised.

Finn gave her a small smile, “Thanks, Princess.”

She stood, dropping his hand and backing away. Queen Abby was there, having watched the whole thing; her eyes were cold as they watched her daughter.

“You can tell Lexa that we agree to her demands,” Clarke said and Abby remained frosty. The Princess wasn’t supposed to be the one giving orders.

After a moment of silence, Clarke walked away, grabbing Bellamy’s arm as she went. She was too tired to play mind games with her mother right now.

 

 

“Clarke,” Abby called, striding into the dinning room that night, “I have spoken with the Grounder girl.”

“And?” Clarke asked, raising her head from a plate of untouched food.

“Finn will be executed tomorrow night.”

Clarke nodded, expecting her mother to walk away, having already delivered the news. Instead, Abby stayed put, ready to say more.

“She wanted to bring him back to her village for the execution, but I insisted we do it here.” Clarke’s eyes widened in surprise. Had her mother really advocated for Finn? “In exchange, I agreed to let her be in charge of the execution.”

“WHAT?” Clarke yelled, slamming her hands on the table as she stood. “You did what?!”

“The Grounders will preform the execution.”

“Do you know how the Grounders kill the people who break their laws?”

The Queen narrowed her eyes, not liking the way Clarke was screaming at her, but Clarke didn’t seem to care.

“Do you have any idea how _cruel_ their killings are?” Clarke couldn’t believe this was happening. She had promised Finn a quick death and her mother had gone and promised Lexa a death of her choosing. It would take hours for the Grounders to kill him, they would draw it out, make it as painful as possible.

“I do,” Abby replied, crossing her arms, “I think you are forgetting who is in charge here, Clarke. This was not your decision to make, it was mine, and you have no right to question me.”

Clarke laughed, a cold empty sound.

“You just agreed to let the Grounders execute one of our own people, on our land, however they’d like.” She strode forward, coming nose to nose with the Queen. “The Grounders don’t think you’re in charge here, they think _they_ are.”

Clarke brushed past Abby, bumping into her shoulder hard as she went. The Queen was left standing in the dining room with a room full of guards who were pretending they hadn’t just heard that entire conversation.

“Bring me my dinner!” she snapped after a moment, and there was a loud clanging noise as servants scampered back from the doors, removed their ears from the walls, and got back to work.

 

 

 

 

Clarke was practically running up the steps of the castle after leaving her mother in the dinning room. 

“I cannot believe this. I cannot believe she did that,” she was muttering under her breath when someone came down the stairs, plowing into her. Clarke stumbled back, trying to grab onto something to avoid tumbling down the stairs, but then someone’s arms were under her armpits, catching her. She looked back and Bellamy was there, his forehead covered in sweat from running up the stairs after her. He leaned her forward with a grunt, and Clarke grabbed onto the banister for balance. 

“Thanks,” Clarke said, just now turning to see who had run into her. It wasn’t an apologetic servant, like she expected- it was Marcus Kane. 

“Kane?”

“Sorry, Princess, are you alright? I was just looking for your mother.”

“She’s in the dinning room.”

“Oh,” he said, making a move to go around her, “Thanks.”

Clarke reached out, stopping him. “Kane, I need you to do me a favor.”

He raised a brow, glancing at the steps behind him. Clarke had never asked him for a favor before, in fact she rarely talked to him since King Jake died. What could she possibly want?

“A favor?”

“Yes,” she said crisp, “I need you to get someone in town for me and bring her here. Her name is Raven. She works at Sinclair’s Blacksmith Shop. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I, uh, no, I don’t know where that is. Look, Clarke, I am supposed to meet your mother and I-”

“Kane,” she said sharply, “I am the Princess, am I not?”

“Yes, um, yes of course you are.”

“Well, your _Princess_ just asked you to do something. I’m sure dinner with my mother can wait until you’ve completed what it is I’ve asked you to do.”

The excuse died on his lips and his eyes widened a bit. Clarke had never spoken to him this way; actually he’d never heard her speak to anyone this way. The Princess didn’t flaunt her power and Kane was a bit unsettled at her newfound confidence.

“Very well, Princess. I will see to it that this Raven girl is brought here at once.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, looking him up and down, “You’re free to go now.” Kane walked away stiff, not bothering to look back.

“That was a bit harsh, Princess,” Bellamy rumbled from somewhere off to her side. 

She turned, ready to snap at him too, but the look in his eyes made her stop. Bellamy wasn’t criticizing her for acting so harshly towards Kane- he was _worried_ about her. She pursed her lips and continued up the steps without a word.


	22. Chapter 22

Clarke slept in the next day, unable to get out of bed early in the morning like she usually did. It was as if dread had made her so heavy she couldn’t move.

Someone knocked on the door lightly and Clarke only groaned, throwing a pillow in its direction.

“Clarke?” a familiar voice called, stepping into the room, “It’s time.”

She sat up, gazing at Bellamy in her doorway. He was dressed in all black clothing, with no holes or signs of wear. His sword was around his waist, but the belt he was using was shiny and clean. Even his hair had been slicked back into a more tame style.

Clarke had forgotten that people dressed up for executions, especially high profile ones. By now, the entire country was probably putting on their best clothes and making their way to the executioner’s block.

“Did Raven ever show up?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

 “Yes. I made sure she got to see him.”

Clarke nodded, “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond and she sighed, crawling out of bed. Bellamy averted his eyes when her feet hit the ground and stepped into the hallway to give her some privacy. Clarke put on a blue dress, braided her hair back, slapped on some makeup to hide the bags under her eyes, and put on her small silver crown. It wasn’t the one she wore for special occasions, this one was meant for everyday life, but Clarke hated wearing it. She hated that she had to wear it to watch Finn get executed. She hated that everyone would see her wearing the crown, while one of their own people got tortured. She hated her mother for making this entire situation worse.

 

 

The executioner’s block and surrounding area was packed by the time Bellamy and Clarke arrived. A tall wooden post had been set up on the stage, flames lit around it, and Clarke tried not to gag at the site. As a royal, she was supposed to go to the front of the crowd to watch, but a familiar ponytail caught her eye.

Raven looked over as Clarke sidled up next to her. The two exchanged a look, neither knowing what to say.

Just then, three large Grounder men pushed their way up the stairs, a limp body in tow. They tied Finn to the wooden post with rope, hands bound behind his back, and head sagging.

Lexa stepped forward, her Grounder garb catching the light from the flames and black war paint making her look ferocious.

“People of Arcadia,” she called and the crowd quieted, “I come before you to ensure that this murderer, Finn Collins, pays for the crimes he has committed against my clan. This man murdered two women and a child in cold blood. Tonight, each member of my clan will get the opportunity to slash Lord Collins, as reparation for the pain he has caused each and every one of them. The final, fatal, blow will come from me.” She stepped back and the crowd volume increased. Many of them had not known how horrific this execution was going to be.

Clarke saw the clan of Grounders begin to line up at the bottom of the stairs, each of them brandishing a shiny knife. She couldn’t watch this.

A cold hand grabbed hers and she looked down, startled. Raven was holding onto her, grasping for support, her face swollen from crying, but eyes facing forward, looking at Finn.

She felt powerless to stop what was about to happen. She didn’t want to watch it and she didn’t want Raven to have to watch it.

Clarke gave Raven’s hand a squeeze and turned to Bellamy, “Sir Blake, I don’t think Octavia should be here for this.”

“What?” he cried, looking around sharply.

“She’s over there, with Lincoln,” Clarke pointed in the direction they had come from. He turned, eyes darkening when he spotted her.

“I’ll be fine for a moment alone, while you get Octavia out of here.”

Bellamy looked down at her, assessing, eyes glancing at her and Raven’s clasped hands.

“Murphy!” he barked, and the knight seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Watch them.”

Murphy raised his eyebrow, sneering a little at Clarke, but nodded. He and Raven had become close lately, hanging out in Sinclair’s shop and discovering their shared sense of humor. Though, if Clarke were there, he would turn around without even coming inside. Clarke tried not to take it personally; his hatred for her ran deep. Bellamy started shoving his way towards Octavia, hoping Murphy was noble enough to protect the woman he despised. 

 

When he got to his sister, she was staring at the stage horrified and Bellamy wanted to scream at her to look away. He hadn’t dared turn around to see what was going on, even though he heard the whispers of the crowd getting louder. He had no desire to watch Finn’s agony.

“Octavia,” he snapped, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Lincoln was next to her, his mouth agape as well. Bellamy wanted to ring the man’s neck for bringing his sister here.

“Bell,” she whispered, pointing to the stage.

“Yeah, I know, its horrible. Now, get the fuck out of here.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “Bellamy, look.”

Frustrated, he turned around. Finn was still tied to the pole, just as he’d expected, but the line of Grounders was still near the stairs. He stopped cold when he caught sight of a familiar blonde braid. His eyes searched the place in the crowd where he’s just left, hoping what he was seeing wasn’t real. But Clarke wasn’t where he’d left her. She was standing on the stage, her face mere inches away from Lexa’s. 

The crowd had gone practically silent as they tried to hear what Clarke was saying, but Bellamy was too far away. He grabbed Octavia by the upper arm, not wanting to let her out of his sight, and drug her forward so that he could hear better.

“Please. Don’t do this,” Clarke was saying.

“Enough, Clarke,” Lexa snapped, “This is what was agreed upon.”

Clarke glanced over to Finn, tears blinding her.

“Can I at least say goodbye?” she begged.

Bellamy, Octavia, and Lincoln were back next to Raven and Murphy now. Close enough to hear and see what was going on clearly. Murphy was told to watch them. Had he just watched Clarke slip away without even trying to stop her?

“You’ve had your chance to say goodbye already,” Lexa said, growing agitated.

Clarke let out a wretched sob. Slowly, she lifted a hand to her stomach, cupping it underneath her bellybutton and the crowd froze.

“Please?”

Lexa glanced down at Clarke’s hand on her belly, eyes growing wide and disbelieving. Her head snapped to Finn and then back to Clarke, a question in her eyes. Gulping, Clarke nodded and Abby gasped. 

“Oh my god,” Octavia said, covering her mouth. It was impossible. Clarke couldn’t really be pregnant with Finn’s child, right? Bellamy glanced at Raven, trying to gauge her reaction, but she looked just as lost as the rest of them.

“Fine,” Lexa growled, “You may say goodbye, but make it quick.”

Clarke didn’t waste any time, running to Finn, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him. Bellamy tried not to jerk at the sight, even as members of the crowd gasped. If Clarke really was pregnant, then this was the last moment she was ever going to have with the father of her child.

 

 

Clarke didn’t know where she had gotten the idea; it had just sort of popped into her head as a last resort. But it worked. Lexa was letting her say goodbye to Finn.

She ran to him, pressing her lips to his instantly. Finn seemed surprised, but grateful, and returned the kiss.

Slowly, she lowered her arms, hugging him, and burying her chin in his neck.

“I’m scared, Princess.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Finn let out a small grunt.

“You’re okay,” she promised, twisting her wrist a little. “You’re okay.”

“Thanks, Princess,” he rasped, his head dropping to her shoulder.

 

 

 

Bellamy tried to avert his eyes from the stage. The couple was in an embrace and they seemed to be murmuring to each other. It was intimate, tender even, but no one could look away. Maybe she was telling him about their child, or maybe he was apologizing for being so cruel. 

When Clarke stepped back, Bellamy noticed her body shaking a bit. He hated Finn, thought she had too, but no child deserved to grow up fatherless. That was something he knew firsthand.

_“Oh my god.”_

A gasp. A shout.

Frantically, Bellamy searched the square for the sudden panic. He didn’t know what was going on, but looking back at the podium, he soon found out.

An ominous dark patch was spreading on Finn’s shirt, right below his heart. It couldn’t be. Bellamy’s eyes snapped to Clarke, just now noticing the blood that dripped from her sleeve and the blade hanging limply in her hand.

“NO!” Raven screamed, collapsing, and Lincoln bent to catch her, guiding her to the ground.

The entire square of people exploded into chaos. The Grounders, just realizing what Clarke had done, raged up the steps, weapons drawn. Lexa was shouting at them, ordering them to stop. The people in the crowd were wild- some of them calling for blood, some hysterical, others frozen in shock. Through it all, Clarke stood alone on the stage, knife in hand, with tears streaming down her face.

“What have you done?” Abby asked, horrified.

Lexa managed to calm the Grounders down, her hands outstretched to keep them from stampeding up the stairs. When she was sure they weren’t going to move, she turned to look at Clarke, completely bewildered.

The Princess strode forward, towards her mother and Lexa, and the crowd quieted. No one knew what she was going to do next.

 _“The Kingdom of Arcadia does not recognize torture as a form of punishment_ ,” Clarke said roughly, shoving the knife towards her mother. Out of instinct, Abby scrambled to grab it, pinning the knife tightly against her chest so it wouldn’t fall. The blood smeared all along the front of her dress and hands, but she was too stunned to notice.

Clarke shook her head at them in disgust, and then hopped off the stage, avoiding the clan of Grounders at the bottom of the stairs. Members of the crowd parted for her to pass, mouths agape.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. People would be talking about it for weeks. The Princess of Ark Kingdom had killed Lord Collins. Stabbed him in the heart while a clan of Grounders stood near by.

“Murphy,” Bellamy snapped.

“I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he said horrified. “I swear Bellamy, I never would’ve let her if I’d known-”

Bellamy pointed at the disappearing blonde head of hair, “If you don’t want me to kill you, you’ll follow Clarke. Do not leave her side.”

Murphy’s face turned serious, taking the order to heart, and he ran after her, pushing people out of his way. Bellamy bent down to help retrieve the hysterical Raven, grabbing Octavia too, and pulled them out of the square.

 

 

“I can’t believe she did that,” Octavia whispered as they walked. Bellamy didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe it either. They had left Raven with Sinclair at the Blacksmith shop. He hadn’t been at the execution, but one look at Raven was all it took for him to stand aside and let Bellamy carry her to bed in the back. Lincoln had returned to the stables for the night, his mind still reeling and not wanting to make Bellamy any more upset by sticking around. 

“Bell, _she killed him._ ”

“I know what she did,” Bellamy snapped, but it came out angrier than he intended. She didn’t take it personally. Octavia could tell that Bellamy was just as distraught. His silence the entire walk from the square said it all.

“Why did she do it, Bell? I don’t understand how she could… how she could…” Out of instinct, Bellamy wrapped his arm around her. Sometimes, he forgot that Octavia was so much younger than him. They had both been forced to grow up fast. He’d tried to give her the childhood she deserved, but some things were unavoidable.

“You heard what Lexa said, O. They were going to draw it out, make Finn suffer.”

“I know,” she nodded, burying her head against his shoulder, “But Clarke…”

There weren’t words to describe how she felt, how confused she was about what Clarke had done.

“Octavia,” his hand tightened on her shoulder, stopping them. Bellamy stared down at her, trying to put on his best reassuring face.

“What Clarke did was…” he paused, looking for the right words. “It was difficult, Octavia. She made a choice to put Finn out of his misery, because she thought it was the right thing to do.” He bent his head a little, locking onto her eyes. “Clarke gave him mercy.”

It took her a moment to soak up the words. Part of her understood what Clarke had done. The other part wondered what it had taken her to do it.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy rubbed a hand over his face, “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Octavia hugged him quick and Bellamy instantly felt a little better. Together, they walked into the castle in search of the Princess.

 

 

Murphy was standing outside of her bedroom door when they made it to the top of the stairs.

“Is she in there?” Bellamy asked, his gut clenching when he saw the grim look on Murphy’s face.

“Clarke is,” Murphy nodded, “So is the Queen.”

Bellamy stopped short of knocking on the door. It really wasn’t his place to interrupt the two women, but Clarke was his to protect no matter what. If anything, his entrance might cause a distraction that she needed.

Bellamy took a deep breath, “Stay out here, O.” Murphy gave him a look that said ‘what the hell are you doing?’ Bellamy tried to shrug nonchalantly- he didn’t actually know what his plan was either.

He walked in, and Abby stopped mid-sentence. She was in front of Clarke, her face red with anger. Clarke sat on her bed, eyes staring blankly at her bloody hands.

“Now is not the time, Sir Blake,” Abby snapped.

“I am here to make sure the Princess is well.”

“Clarke is fine. Now, leave us.”

Bellamy didn’t believe her. Clarke hadn’t moved a muscle since he walked in. He wasn’t even sure she had blinked.

“Sorry, Your Majesty. I am just trying to do my job.”

“I’m not sure you actually know what your job is, Sir Blake. Weeks ago, I saw my daughter covered in bruises and bloody. Tonight, you let her go on stage alone during a dangerous ceremony. I assigned you to _protect_ Clarke, but you don't seem to understand the concept." 

Anger flared in his chest, followed by guilt. He knew he should’ve protected Clarke all those times, but she kept managing to slip through his fingers. The only time she got hurt was when she wasn’t actually with him! It didn’t matter, though. Abby was not the person to be lecturing him about caring for Clarke. She had shown Clarke only coldness when she needed warmth and abandonment when she needed love. 

“That’s what I’m doing here,” Bellamy stated and Abby raised a brow in warning.

“Are you worried I am going to hurt my own daughter, Sir Blake?”

He silence was an answer and the tension in the room seemed to double.

“I want you to leave.” The voice was so small, he wasn’t sure he’d heard it. “I want you to leave,” it said stronger and Bellamy turned to the source.

Clarke was standing now, her hands cradled in front of her. She wanted him to leave?

“Clar-“

“Mom, I want you to leave.”

Abby looked offended.

“You want me to leave? I can’t believe this. Clarke, do have any idea what you did tonight? Do you have any idea how you made us look?”

“Not us, _you_. You were going to allow them to torture Finn, even though it is against our law, because you were scared. You showed weakness tonight. The Grounders knew it, Lexa knew it, and everyone in that square knew it. I did what I had to do to ensure that Ark Kingdom upholds its values. Our Queen just couldn’t do the same.”

Abby slapped Clarke across the face. In an instant, Bellamy was there, grabbing the Queen by the waist and hauling her backwards. She was screaming like a mad woman, bucking in his arms. Clarke stared at them, tears running down her cheeks, and arms wrapped around her herself.

Bellamy threw her out of the door and slammed it shut. He’d think about the consequences of manhandling the Queen like that later. She continued shouting on the other side, pounding on the wood.

“Your Majesty,” he heard Murphy grunt. “I think you ought to leave the Princess alone for tonight.”

There was a scuffling sound and a grunt and then silence.

Clarke’s back was to him when Bellamy turned.

“Clarke?”

“Get it off.”

“What?”

Get what off?

Clarke turned, a cloth in hand as she rubbed furiously at her red sticky fingers.

“Get it off!” she cried, rubbing faster. If she didn’t stop, she’d have more than just Finn’s blood on her hands.

Bellamy rushed to grab the pitcher of water on the table.

“Clarke, stop. You’re hurting yourself!” Tears poured out of her eyes as she continued to violently scrub.

Bellamy lunged forward, grabbing her own hands from her and dunking them into the pitcher of water. She gasped.

“Clarke, you’re alright. I’ll clean them, okay? We’ll get it off,” he soothed, taking the cloth from her grip underwater. Gently, Bellamy wiped the blood from her hands, watching her from under his lashes.

“I did what I had to do,” she whispered.

Bellamy squeezed the cloth, ringing it out, and turned her hands over to continue cleaning them. “I know, Clarke.”

Her blue eyes met his and he stopped his movements. He held her gaze, trying to assure her with just his eyes that he understood. That she had done something terrible, but he knew it was necessary.

Clarke gulped and nodded, one sharp jerk of her head. Bellamy knew she had done what she needed to do. He wasn’t mad at her or disgusted. He understood.

“Will you stay in here tonight?” she asked soft, after Bellamy had towel dried her hands and turned away so she could change.

In answer, he laid down on the couch, shucking off his boots. Clarke let out a relieved breath, watching Bellamy get comfortable, and climbed into her own bed.

She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Octavia opened the door, curious as to why her brother hadn’t come out of the room yet. Murphy peered over her shoulder, equally curious. Bellamy was laid out of the couch, hands thrown over his head, snoring. Clarke was in the same position on her bed, snoring even louder.

“I’ll walk you home and then come back to stand watch,” Murphy told Octavia, and she nodded, closing the door behind her quietly.


	23. Chapter 23

Clarke actually managed to sleep through the night. It was probably because she was so exhausted her body had just sort of given out.

Someone was snoring when she woke. She sat up. There was a tall, curly haired knight on her couch.

Bellamy had stayed the night, like she’d asked. Careful not to wake him, she began brushing her hair and getting clothes ready for the day.

There was knock and Clarke froze, hands over her head as she worked to get the dress on. She quickly pulled it down, trying her best to pat down her rumpled hair.

Murphy’s eyes widened when she opened the door. “Uh, Princess, I was looking for Sir Blake.”

She opened the door a bit, allowing him to see farther into the room. Murphy spotted Bellamy, grinning. 

“ _Ah_ , I see. When he wakes up can you tell him Octavia got home safe?”

“I’ll tell him.”

Murphy nodded and turned to go, but paused.

“Clarke, wait-”

She raised a wary eyebrow. What was he going to do? Yell at her for killing Finn? Tell her how much he hated her, how much he despised her family?

“Jasper wanted me to thank you.”

“He’s awake?”

“Yeah, he woke up two weeks ago. He was groggy, but he’s finally able to walk again. He’s trying to get back into some training.”

“That’s great,” Clarke said smiling, but the happiness dropped from her features when she saw the way Murphy was staring at her. Now was he going to yell?

“What you did last night…”

 _Was cruel?_ Yeah she knew that already.

“I don’t think I could’ve done it,” he settled on and Clarke blinked.

“I didn’t want him to suffer.”

Murphy nodded, “If it had been me, up there tied to that post, I would want someone to do what you did.”

Clarke was speechless. Murphy was actually talking to her for once without being rude or unkind. She had gotten so used to him sneering or avoiding her all together, that this was kind of disturbing.

“And for what it’s worth,” he shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with being nice to her, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, no kid should grow up without a father.”

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about.

“I’m not actually pregnant, Murphy. That was just the only thing I could think of to get close to Finn.”

Murphy glanced down at her stomach, as if trying to see if there was a bump, and Clarke shifted uncomfortably. She was wearing only her underdress after all, and it was pretty thin. 

“That was smart,” he finally said.

Clarke smirked, “Careful, Murphy, it almost sounds like you’re giving me a compliment.”

His face hardened, flicking an annoyed look her way. “In your dreams, Princess.”

“If you’re in my dreams, it’s a nightmare.” 

“Fuck off.”

“Happily.” 

But neither of them moved and eventually Murphy took a step back, righting his shoulders.

“Did you stand guard all night?” Clarke asked, realizing no one else was in the hall.

“Yeah. I figured Bellamy would kill me if I didn’t.”

Clarke laughed, “I’m not sure he would’ve gone that far.”

“If he found out I left his princess unguarded, Bellamy would hang me from my toes and let the crows eat me.”

 _His princess._ Murphy had said _his_ princess, not _the_ princess. Clarke tried not to read too much into it, but a warm feeling started in her belly.

“Well, thank you. I know you probably hated guarding me.”

Murphy looked Clarke up and down, assessing. “If you die, I’d have to pay attention to my own miserable life instead of laughing at yours.”

“Cute.”

“I try.”

“Goodbye, Murphy,” she sing-songed, shutting the door in his face.

Murphy grumbled something, trying not to think about how maybe he had misjudged the Princess. Clarke wasn't  _that_ bad. 

 

 

 

Bellamy was awake when Clarke turned around. His hair was in disarray and clothes rumpled. He looked… good, and Clarke swallowed.

“Was that Murphy?” he asked, his voice deep with sleep and she stifled a shiver.

“Yeah. He wanted me to tell you that Octavia got home safe.”

“Shit,” Bellamy said, rubbing his face, “I forgot I brought her with me.”

“Octavia can take care of herself, but it seems like you’ve got pretty good friends to step in when you need it.”

Bellamy nodded, standing and stretching. Clarke had to jerk her eyes away when his shirt rode up to show his belly and she bumped into a chair, almost falling. 

“Yeah, they’re alright,” he said, giving her a weird look as she sat down in the chair casually. 

“I think I need to go see Raven today.” Bellamy paused where he was strapping on his sword. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I know who Finn was to her. I have to talk to her or… or I’ll lose her forever."

  
Bellamy gulped but nodded. Clarke hadn’t seen how upset Raven was last night. This wasn’t her best idea, but the women were best friends and they probably did need to talk about what happened.

 

 

Sinclair gave Bellamy and Clarke a stern look in the entryway of the blacksmith’s shop.

“She’s in the back.”

 

“Raven?” Clarke peeled back the cloth that separated the small room from the shop.

A lump on the bed shifted.

_“Go away.”_

“Raven, please,” Clarke begged, taking a step forward.

“I said go away!” the sheet was flung away as Raven sat up, raving mad. “Get the fuck out of here, Clarke.”

“I’m sorry, Raven, I’m so sorry-”

Raven was enraged, her hands shaking, and eyes hot.

“How could you, Clarke?”

The Princess wobbled forward, wiping away tears. “They were going to torture him. I couldn’t let that I happen. I didn’t want him to suffer.” Her voice was pleading.

Raven stared at the blonde, all emotion masked by anger.

“I did what I had to do.”

_“It didn’t have to be you, Clarke!”_

“If I hadn’t killed him, they would’ve kept him on that post for hours, Raven!”

A pause.

“You know what, Clarke? I’m glad I slept with Bellamy.”

Clarke jerked back as if stung. “What?”

“I’m glad that you get to feel the way I did when Finn slept with you.”

“Raven, what are you-”

“I know you love him,” she said matter of fact. “I know you love Bellamy and I’m glad I got him before you did. I wish I could go back and fuck him all over again, just so you would feel some semblance of the pain I’m feeling right now. You deserve it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You killed Finn, Clarke. You killed my best friend. The man that has been with me through _everything!_ I can’t even look at you right now,” Raven slumped back into the bed, turning her back and yanking the blankets over her head.

Clarke stood in the room a moment longer, processing what Raven had said. She was right- she did deserve to feel pain. She deserved every ounce of punishment that came her way.

When her legs finally worked again, Clarke stumbled out from behind the cloth. Bellamy was standing a few feet away, his face blank. This couldn’t get much worse. He had heard everything.

Embarrassment flooded her face.

“Clarke-”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

They didn’t talk on the way home. Bellamy watched as silent tears dripped down Clarke’s face and neck, but she didn’t even attempt to wipe them away.

 

 

 

They didn’t talk about what Raven had said that day. Clarke, known for avoiding awkward conversations at all costs, spent most of her time in court or at tutoring. Bellamy knew she was doing it so she didn’t have to speak to him, but part of him was thankful. He didn’t know what to say to her either.

They were leaving court one afternoon, making small talk in a pitiful attempt to pretend like everything was fine.

“How is Octavia doing?”

“Fine, we are going to make dinner when I get my day off.”

 “That’s nice. What are you going to make?”

“Chicken pot pie.”

Clarke nodded with a hum. God, this was awkward. Thankfully, they were saved when a group of knights rounded the corner, flanked by her mother.

Clarke stepped to the side of the hall to let them pass and Abby walked by without a word.

“Why does he stare at you like that?” Bellamy asked when the group was at the other end of the corridor.

“Who?”

“Sir Wallace.”

Clarke stiffened.She didn’t realize anyone else had noticed Cage’s aggressive eye glares. But of course, Bellamy had. He noticed everything.

When she didn’t answer, Bellamy glanced down, “You didn’t sleep with him too, did you?”

_Shit, had he said that out loud?_

“Hey!” Clarke cried, punching him in the arm, “No, I didn’t sleep with him. That’s just gross." 

Bellamy rubbed his arm with a sheepish smile, “Sorry. But seriously, why does he look at you like that?”

Clarke looked down the hall, where her mother and knights had just disappeared. “He’s worried I’m going to recognize him.”

“Huh?”

She turned, heading the other direction, and Bellamy jogged to catch up. Her voice was soft, “He was one of the knights that murdered my dad." 

Bellamy’s steps faltered. “Seriously?”

Clarke kept her eyes to the ground. “They wore masks, but yes. He was there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Seriously, Clarke?” The exasperation in his voice made her stop. “You didn’t think to tell me that one of the new knights in the castle killed your father? That he might be trying to kill you too?”

She shrugged, but Bellamy was right. She should’ve told him the moment she figured it out.

“I’ve been careful.”

Bellamy growled, “That doesn’t matter, Clarke. If you don’t tell me this shit, how am I supposed to keep you alive?”

“I’m sorry, okay!” she shouted, then immediately lowered her tone, “There was just so much going on that I forgot. Lexa and Finn and Raven… I just forgot, okay? I’m sorry.”

Bellamy studied her. The pinch between her eyebrows was a sign she really did feel bad. He nodded, accepting her apology and they kept walking. When they reached her room, Bellamy stopped outside the door, taking his position.

“Do you want to come in?” she said. It sounded innocent enough, but Bellamy faltered.

“Uhhh…”

She lifted her gaze to him, stifling the embarrassment, “I need to tell you something else and I don’t want to do it where anyone could hear."

He went into the room. 

“I realize that I’ve been selfish,” she leaned against the table, hands clasped together. Bellamy had no idea where this was going, but Clarke was nervous and it made him nervous.

“I should have told you a lot of things from the start, but I didn’t and that was selfish. But I want to tell you now.”

His eyes widened.

“You’re my knight, which means that if someone is planning to kill me they are probably planning to kill you too.”

Bellamy had deducted as much, but hearing Clarke say it made it all the more real.

“You asked about the secrets my father told me one time,” and Bellamy nodded, remembering. “My father discovered that the ground water in many of our towns is toxic. Citizens were coming to the castle, complaining of sickness, and the crown didn’t know what to do so they sent medicine and nurses to help. But people didn’t get any better. Thelonius figured out that it had to be the water and he told my mom. My mom told my father, but begged him not to tell anyone.”

“Why didn’t she want anyone to know?”

Clarke grimaced, “The water is toxic because of us. The castle has been improperly disposing of its waste for decades and the toxins seeped into the ground. The crown is killing its own people.”

Bellamy was stunned into silence.

“My mother thought that the people would revolt, if they found out that the nobles and royals were the reason people were dying.”

“So she had King Jake killed.”

“Yes,” Clarke said, her voice raw, “She’s worried I’ll tell the commoners, like my father wanted to.”

“Are you going to?" 

Clarke looked off into the distance for a moment, “I want to, but I need to be in a place of power before I can. Otherwise, they’ll never believe me.” 

“You’re already in a place of power,” Bellamy said indignantly, “You’re the Princess.”

“True, but my mom is the Queen. Her word out-rules mine.”

“You want to be the Queen?" 

“God no,” Clarke said. “But I do want the people to start questioning my mother’s decisions. If I can discredit her, then maybe they will listen to me.”

Bellamy nodded, it was a good plan, but it still made him sick that people were dying over this ridiculous political game.

“I don’t understand what Lexa had to do with all of this,” Bellamy said.

“I told her what I’m telling you now. She saw the opportunity to save her people and took it.”

Confused, Bellamy shook his head.

“The Grounders aren’t getting sick like the rest of the Ark, Bellamy. Lexa made a deal with my mother for supplies, clean water, and medicine.”

Now it all made sense.

“What do you need?” Bellamy said, his voice rising.

Clarke furrowed her brows, “What do you mean?”

“You want to damage your mother’s reputation? Lets do it. The sooner the better, so people will stop getting sick. What do you need me to do?”

“You want to help?”

“Of course,” Bellamy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Clarke gulped, retrieving her other drawing book from the closet. “Well first, lets try to figure out who else is trying to kill me. I’m not going to be much help if I’m dead.”

 

 

 

Bellamy didn’t show up to the training grounds on his night off and Clarke was worried. She woke up early the next day, pacing, picturing all the terrible things that could’ve happened to him. God, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

There was a knock and Clarke ran to the door, swinging it open to reveal a very angry Bellamy Blake.

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathed, instantly relieved to see him alive and well.

“ _Octavia says she and Lincoln are getting married_ ,” he growled.

Oh shit.


	24. Chapter 24

“You’re getting better, but you’re still giving away your attacks too easily. I can tell what you’re going to do a minute before you do it." 

Clarke huffed. She was tired and dirty and more than anything, she really wanted to beat her sword into Bellamy’s head. He had been angrier lately, his commands sharper and less constructive. Instead of telling her how to fix something, Bellamy would just comment that this would get her stabbed, that move would get her killed… blah, blah, blah.

“What’s your problem?” Clarke said angrily.

 “What do you mean?” Bellamy grumbled while using a forearm to wipe his forehead.

 “I mean that you’ve been a real ass lately and I want to know if I did something to make you mad.”

Bellamy stiffened. Every since he’d found out about Octavia and Lincoln his mood had been bad. He snapped at everything that had a pulse and found himself sulking more than usual.

He took a deep breath, “You’re right.”

“Was it something I did?”

Bellamy shook his head, “No it wasn’t you. I’ve been upset with my sister the past few days and I was taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

 “Its okay,” Clarke shrugged. “Now can you tell me how to avoid giving away my attacks?” She was back in fight mode, relieved that Bellamy wasn’t upset with her.

“Sure you just need to-” Bellamy was cut short by a group of male voices.

“Hey, Blake is that you?” a man called and Bellamy turned.

Clarke couldn’t place the voice but it sounded familiar. She didn’t like the idea of being around other people while in disguise. Sure it was dark out, but she was still a girl. She was still the Princess.

“Yeah, its me!” Bellamy called back as four men walked through the training grounds gates, “What are you guys doing out here?”

“You too good to train with us, Blake? I know how much you love the Princess but I didn’t think working in the castle would actually turn you into one of those royal assholes.”

Finally, Clarke could place the voice. It was Murphy. And by the height and thinness of the man next to him, she guessed that was Jasper. The third must be Monty, but she had no idea who the fourth man could be. Clarke took quiet steps backwards, away from the approaching group and Bellamy.

“Careful Murphy, Nathan’s about to be one of those  _royal assholes_ ,” Jasper laughed.

Bellamy growled, “Fuck off, Murphy.”

“Yeah, Murphy, shut up,” the unknown man said. Nathan, Clarke guessed.

“ _Miller_?” Bellamy said, “I haven’t seen you in ages.” Miller, not Nathan, she corrected.

“Yeah, I just got back from TonDC. Got stationed here for a while, now. I’ll be in the castle.” The two men shook hands and Clarke noticed the fondness in Bellamy’s posture. Miller was a friend. 

“You guarding the queen?” Bellamy asked. 

The man shrugged, “I not on her queens-guard or anything, but I’ll be working in the castle.”

Clarke was practically to the fence now, sword still in hand when Murphy barked, “Hey, who’s the runt?”

Bellamy turned, as if just now remembering she was there. “Guys, this is Jay. Jay this is Murphy, Miller, Jasper and Monty. All men I trained to be knights, way back when. I’ve been helping train Jay,” Bellamy turned back to the group, “For such a scrawny thing, he’s pretty good.” 

“Hi,” Clarke said quietly. The men took a moment just to stare at her- it wasn’t like they could see much in the dark- until Monty cleared his throat and they returned to cracking jokes. Bellamy joined in on the banter, barely noticing that Clarke was slinking away.

She would’ve gotten away silently, if the sword she was holding hadn’t banged into the wood of the fence while she was climbing over. The knights’ conversation stopped. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Bellamy questioned.

“I’ve gotta go,” Clarke mumbled under her breath. She took off for the castle before anyone could try to stop her.

“Hey! Jay!” Bellamy bellowed, but she was hustling away, running faster when she heard Bellamy yelling.

 

 

Jay had taken off into the darkness, obviously uncomfortable when his friends had shown up. Bellamy had called after him, but the boy just sprinted away, sword in hand. Damn it, he couldn’t let Jay get too far with the weapon. It would be Bellamy’s ass on the line if the boy did anything stupid with it.

“Guys, I’ve got to go. I’ll catch up with you later!” Bellamy vaulted over the fence. “And make sure to lock up when you’re done!” he called over his shoulder. 

They called their goodbyes and Murphy made a rude comment, but Bellamy was already running to chase after the boy. He saw the white of the Jay’s shirt dash through the gardens and followed. Why was he going towards the castle? Bellamy sped up, worry filling his bones.

Bellamy burst through the hedges and whipped his head left and right, looking for Jay’s small figure. Dawn was approaching soon and the light helped him see his surroundings better, but there was no sign of the boy. 

A scratching sound above him made Bellamy jerk his head up.  _What the fuck?_  Jay appeared to be climbing the castle wall and was already a third of the way to the top! Bellamy recognized the familiar glint of a sword in the boy’s waistband and silently cursed. He was fast and agile as he climbed the stonewall, placing his hands and feet expertly as if he’d done it a hundred times.

“Jay! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bellamy called from the ground below. The boy stilled, hand frozen as he reached for the stone above his head.

“I know you can hear me, Jay! Get down from there, right now!” The boy still didn’t move, so Bellamy continued, “What are you thinking?! Get down here and give me back that fucking sword!”

The tension in Jay’s shoulders told Bellamy he could hear him screaming. 

After a pause, though, the boy began climbing again. Bellamy gulped, bracing himself to go after the child. He placed his hands on the first protruding stones, but something made him pause. Jay was nearly halfway to the top of the castle now, but the stones above him where way too high for him to reach. Jay would be forced to turn around, Bellamy realized, and he blew out a relieved breath.

Bellamy paced on the ground, planning what he was going to do with Jay when he got down. Would he strike him? Yell? Take the sword and beat him with it?

Amidst his angry thoughts, Bellamy caught sight of the boy leaping upward. His jaw fell open as Jay caught onto the rocks nearly seven feet above him, dangling like a monkey in the wind. Bellamy wasn’t going to have to worry about punishing the boy; Jay was going fall and fucking kill himself before Bellamy got the chance.

He thought about calling to the boy again, but was utterly speechless. Jay was slowly pulling his entire body upward, using only his grip on the rocks as leverage. Where the hell had he learned to do that? Swinging his feet back and forth, Jay lifted one foot onto the rock where his hand gripped, and then the other.

Bellamy was stunned. Never in his life had he seen someone pull himself up like that, with only upper body strength. On a stone wall no less, forty feet in the air. He certainly hadn’t expected that from little Jay. Bellamy quickly snapped out of his shock when he saw that the boy had continued scrambling up the castle face.

Jay was almost to a window and Bellamy’s heart seemed to stop.  _He knew that window_.

His feet carried him to the castle doors, past the dozing guards and servants and up the stairs as fast as he could. Jay had just climbed an eight story stonewall with a sword to get to the Princess’s room. He needed to reach the Princess, before Jay managed to use the sword and skills Bellamy had taught him.

Bellamy recalled how every time he mentioned the royal family Jay seemed to change the subject. He avoided talking about the Griffins, even got a little nervous when the topic was brought up.

Was Jay planning on hurting Clarke? Did he get uncomfortable talking about her family because he felt guilty? Had Bellamy really taught a child assassin how to kill the woman his sole duty was to protect?


	25. Chapter 25

When Clarke hurtled through the window she was breathing hard. Bellamy was on his way, probably already halfway through the castle by now. Panic overtook her when she had heard him below, calling out for her to get down. She couldn’t go back down for fear that Bellamy would ring her neck. Her best choice was to keep going and hope she could make it to her room before Bellamy did.

Harper had screamed and dropped the breakfast tray when Clarke burst through the window.

“Harper! It’s just me, Clarke.” Harper’s eyes were wide and she held a candlestick in front of her like a sword. Another time, Clarke would’ve found the whole thing funny.

“Clarke?”

“Yes, it’s me. Now hurry, I need to find a place to hide, quick!”

Harper shook out of her surprise, just now realizing that Clarke was panicked. Both girls searched the room for a hiding spot.

“There!” Harper cried, pointing to the bed. Clarke wrinkled her nose, but time was running out and she didn’t have much choice.

She scurried under the bed whispering to Harper, as she did, “If Bellamy comes, you can’t tell him where I am! Tell him I’m with Jackson or something."

Harper nodded and rushed to pick up the dropped tray, just as the door to the room was flung open and slammed shut just as fast. Clarke flattened herself to the floor, stifling a squeak of surprise.

 “Clarke!” the shout was loud and full of worry. Hard footsteps sounded in the room as Bellamy ran to the window. The window must still be open and Clarke cursed herself for being stupid. Bellamy flung his head out to look at the wall below him, but no one was there.

“Where is she?” he rounded on Harper. 

“I…I don’t know. I think she’s with Jackson,” the girl stumbled over her words. Bellamy eyes scanned the room. The bed was unmade and messy. Breakfast foods were scattered all across the wooden floor and there was a fire roaring in the fireplace. Why would Harper have a fire going if the Princess wasn’t here and why was her breakfast on the ground?

The closet door was flung open and Clarke flinched.

“Where is she, Harper?” the man growled.

“I told you she’s-”

“I heard you. Now tell me where she really is,” Bellamy’s voice was practically vibrating with anger. Clarke threw a hand over her mouth to hide her heavy breathing.

“ _Fine_ ,” the word was a growl out of his mouth.

Bellamy’s footsteps were hard as he headed for the door and Clarke almost sighed- he was leaving. The footsteps suddenly stopped. Why had he paused? Clarke tilted her head slightly to see Bellamy’s shoes, but the bed sheets were hanging over the mattress all the way to the floor, blocking her view.

Without warning, Clarke was yanked from underneath the bed by her ankles. She yelped in surprise and scrambled to hold onto the sword as it scraped along the floor with her.

She was hoisted up and slammed suddenly into the wall by her collar. The impact forced the breath out of her lungs.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here, Jay?” Bellamy snarled, only inches from her face. Clarke tried to respond, but Bellamy was holding her too tightly and her answer came out as a gargle. Bellamy only forced her into the wall harder and her feet lifted from the ground. She clawed at his hand on her neck, begging him to let up.

“Stop it! Bellamy, stop it! You’re hurting her!” Harper cried from over Bellamy’s shoulder.

“He deserves it! Sneaking in here to kill the Princess, the little bastard.” Bellamy turned his head to Harper and snarled, “And you were hiding him! You’ll both pay for this.”

Clarke pounded on his shoulders as her vision started to waiver. She was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Let her go, Bellamy!” Harper banged on the man’s back. He opened his mouth to shout for help from the royal guards, but stiffened. Her?

He brought his focus back to Jay. The boy was struggling against his hand, squirming to be released. His mouth opening and closing like a fish. Bellamy dropped him with a sound of disgust and swiped the stolen sword from his waistband as he fell.

Jay coughed and gasped in a pile on the floor.

Bellamy took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. It took a moment for him to realize something about the boy was different. Jay wasn’t wearing a hat anymore and Bellamy saw that he had golden blonde hair that was pinned tightly to his head. Bellamy always assumed the boy had brown hair. And what was with the pinning? 

Then, Jay looked up at him and croaked, “You almost killed me, you jackass.”

Bellamy flinched. The blue eyes that met his were watery from being choked, but Bellamy would recognize them anywhere. The golden hair that had begun to fall out of pins, he would recognize anywhere. The voice that had just called him a jackass, he would recognize anywhere.

“ _Clarke_?” The sword in his hand fell to the floor with a crash. She coughed again, eyes not leaving Bellamy’s.

He stood ramrod straight, looking dazed.

“Harper, I think you should leave,” Clarke rasped.

“But he just tried to-”

“He’s not going to hurt me, Harper. Leave.” Clarke didn’t like ordering the girl around, but she was right, Bellamy would never hurt her. He had been choking her, because he thought she was a boy sent to kill her… it was all very muddled.

The girl glanced between Bellamy and Clarke warily and then left.

Clarke knew the best thing to do at this point was just give him a moment to process. She used the wall to hoist herself onto her feet and skirted around Bellamy-who was still standing frozen like a statue- and the sword he had dropped. The pitcher of water was cold and Clarke swallowed down an entire glassful and began filling another. Bellamy followed her motions with his eyes. 

Clarke looked out the window in front of her as morning light spread across the kingdom. She was unable to meet his eyes. What was he going to say? Would he yell? Throw something? Tell her mother?

“Start. Explaining.” Goose bumps washed over her skin at the dark tone of his voice. Maybe Clarke was allowed to be a coward sometimes, because she took a sip of her water and nervously adjusted her clothes instead of answering him right away.

“No one was going to teach a Princess how to fight.”

He turned on her, “You lied to me. For months.”

Clarke winced and the guilt hit her. She had lied to him. She had scared him. She had made him angry.

“It was the only way to learn.”

Bellamy stalked towards her with irate eyes. “I would’ve taught you how to protect yourself if you’d _asked_ instead of sneaking around playing dress up.”

She straightened. Did he just say dress up? It sounded so condescending and Clarke’s guilt transformed to fury.

“I did ask and you said no! You never would’ve taught me properly! Don’t say that you would’ve trained me as hard as you trained Jay!”

“You don’t know that!” he shouted back. His face was flushed with anger and sweat, pupils blown.

“You’re telling me you would’ve done _this_ ,” Clarke jerked her shirt up to reveal black and blue bruising along her ribs, “to a Princess?”

Bellamy’s eyes twitched and he jolted back, suddenly realizing where all of her wounds and bruises had come from. _He_ was the one hurting her. Bellamy had never been easy on Jay, always pushing him, because he knew he could take it. Every time Bellamy had struck the boy, Jay had come back swinging harder. But it hadn’t been Jay he was striking it had been Clarke.

Clarke saw the guilt hit Bellamy like a brick and immediately dropped her shirt, “Bellamy, don’t feel bad. A lot of the injuries I actually did to myself, practicing in my room every night.”

He clenched his hands, “Practicing in your room?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “I started working on the kicks and strikes you taught me. Hit my hand on the wall a few times. And nearly broke the bed post with a kick, once,” she tried to laugh but it came out strained. He suddenly remembered the time she had opened her door in the middle of the night and was covered with sweat. It all made sense now.

Bellamy didn’t know what to think. He was upset that she had lied and he couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Clarke and him had become close lately, dare he say friends. But, he understood why she had done it. She was right; he never would have trained her as intensely if he had known it was her. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to swing a wooden sword at her without feeling bad. On the other hand, Bellamy was angry. She had put herself at risk sneaking out all those nights and dressing up like a boy. Fuck, she had been climbing an eight-story stone wall. And she had been hurting herself while practicing in her room. The Princess was determined, that was for sure.

What hurt most was that she had lied to him. 

“I can’t believe this.”

She frowned. “You taught me so much, Bellamy. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it.” 

Clarke approached him, resting a hand on his chest and he wanted to push her away, but couldn’t.

“I’m supposed to protect you at all costs.” 

Clarke nodded, her blue eyes boring into his. She wanted him to understand that he had no reason to feel guilty. She was the one who should feel bad.

“Now, no one is going to hurt me without getting hurt in return. I can defend myself. I don’t have to be the Princess waiting for someone else to rescue her. And that’s because of you, Bellamy.”

The words sunk in and Bellamy sighed. She was right, of course. It didn’t mean he felt any better about it.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “I’m sorry I tricked you and lied. I wish there had been another way. I’m sorry I made you worry about me,” she gave him a small smile, but immediately regretted it when his eyes darkened. It felt like she had just lit a match.

 Bellamy’s previous anger sparked and his voice rose, “What the fuck were you thinking, Clarke? You could’ve been caught! What if the men that killed the King saw you? What if Wallace saw you? What then? You could’ve been killed!”

She stepped back, dropping her hand from his chest, and lowered her chin, “I know, I know. I took the chance, because I knew it was worth it.” 

“You were being reckless,” he snapped.

“I get it, Bellamy. I was being stupid. But I’m trapped in this castle most of the time and I wanted to learn how to protect myself!” she flared her arms. His hard brown eyes bore into her sharp blue ones.

“If you die, that’s on me, Princess.” She blinked, caught off guard. Clarke had never thought about how her sneaking out could hurt Bellamy too, but he was right. If she had been hurt he would blame himself. Everyone else might’ve blamed him too.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I just… I just wanted to learn,” she took a shaky breath, “I refuse to die the same way my father did.”

Bellamy looked at Clarke for a long moment. Her hair was coming out of the pins in random waves, her face was still covered in that brown gunk, and no matter how guilty or upset she was, Bellamy could see the determination in her eyes. She felt bad for lying to him, but he knew she would make the same choices if she had to do it again. That didn’t mean he had to forgive her.

He took a deep breath, “I understand.” 

The words didn’t make Clarke feel any better and all she could muster was a small smile. Here he was, saying he understood, but all she actually wanted was his forgiveness. Bellamy pushed away and went to close the window, looking down again before he did.

“Did you really climb up this wall every one of those nights?”

Clarke snorted and Bellamy turned to see her wiping her face with a wet rag. “Yep, up _and_ down it,” she joked. He didn’t find it very funny, and Clarke’s smile dropped when she noticed.

“Brave Princess. _Stupid,_ but brave,” he said and closed the widow. He marched out of the room and shut the door behind him forcefully. They didn’t talk for the rest of the day.


	26. Chapter 26

Following the discovery that Jay was really Clarke, Bellamy Blake was an ass. He was a silent ass, but an ass nonetheless. Clarke glared at him over breakfast, stabbing her knife into the helpless eggs, but Bellamy just stared at the wall, ignoring her. When he positioned himself over her shoulder, she drew pictures of him with crossed eyes or a tongue sticking out. She knew he saw them, but still no reaction. She visited Octavia and Lincoln, but Bellamy stayed in the shadows, not talking to any of them.

They were in the gardens one afternoon. Clarke was trying to glare Bellamy into talking and Bellamy was pretending she wasn’t even there. She intentionally picked up a stick, swinging it back and forth to knock into his knees. Bellamy just took a step to the right.

“Hey!” someone shouted and they both turned.

“Murphy?”

“I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere,” he ran to them, sword bouncing off his leg.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked. If Murphy was looking for them, something really bad must’ve happened. Maybe it was about Jasper.

“Raven wants to talk to you.”

“She does?”

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded, catching his breath, “She asked if I would come get you.”

“Lead the way,” Clarke said, pushing down the anxiety that threatened to make her voice tremor.

 

Raven was hammering away when they got to the shop. Her face was covered in a cloth for protection and her back turned, too enthralled in her work to notice them. Clarke, Murphy, and Bellamy milled around, waiting for her to finish.

When the loud clanging finally stopped, Clarke spun from where she had been admiring the wall of weapons and shields.

Raven was already looking at her.

“Clarke.”

“Raven.”

Slowly, Raven pulled the cloth from her face, leaving it to hang around her neck. Her face broke.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

And then they were together, holding each other close.

“Thank you,” Raven whispered into her hair, “Thank you for making it quick.”

Clarke clenched her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“I know.”

They pulled apart, tears mirrored on both of their cheeks.

“Anybody going to thank me?” Murphy said, and the two girls turned their heads. “I’m the one that told Raven she was mad at Clarke for no reason.”

“You defended me?” Clarke asked, not believing it, “To Raven?”

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. But only because I was tired of watching her break poor innocent swords and listening to Sinclair yell at her for being too rough.”

Clarke laughed.

“Shut up, Murphy,” Raven said without heat.

Murphy glanced at Bellamy, who hadn’t said a thing the entire time. “So, Princess, did you break Bellamy or was it Octavia?”

Raven glanced between Clarke and Bellamy, recognizing the tension. She gave Clarke an apologetic look, thinking she was the reason things were so uneasy.

“Can you give us some privacy?”

With raised eyebrows, Murphy left, trailed by a stoic Bellamy.

“Clarke, I’m so sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

Clarke sighed, taking a seat on the nearby workbench. “I know, Ray, its okay.”

“I was so angry.”

“I know.”

“Clarke, I’m serious. I know what I said was wrong. I don't like Bellamy like that. It was just the once-”

“Bellamy is mad at me for something else. What you said… it hurt, but, I think-” she glanced around the shop, searching for the right words. “I think that what you said is true. About loving him.”

Raven gave her a sad smile, “I know.”

“It hurts that the same thing happened with Finn and with Bellamy. Even Lexa. It feels like I’ll never have something that’s just mine.”

“Bellamy is yours, Clarke.”

“Yeah, because my mother pays him to be.”

“Clarke,” Raven grabbed her by the shoulders hard, “Bellamy loves you. I don’t know what’s going on between you two right now, but it doesn’t matter. He looks at you like you’re the sun.”

A tear slipped down Clarke’s cheek and Raven wiped it away with her thumb.

“I’m scared of losing him,” Clarke whispered.

The Princess was good at putting on a face and playing her part, but Raven had the privilege of seeing Clarke at her most vulnerable. She would never take it for granted.

“You’re not going to lose him.”

“I don’t want to die,” Clarke whispered again, rougher.

Raven gathered the girl into her arms as best she could. “You’ve been practicing?”

Clarke nodded into her shoulder.

“Bellamy knows that someone might try to hurt you?”

Another nod.

“He would never let anything happen to you, Clarke. And I bet you’ve gotten really good with that fancy sword I made,” Raven was right- she had- “If anyone tries to hurt you, they’re going to be in for a real surprise.”

Clarke sniffled and pulled back.

“If I do die-”

“No,” Raven said instantly, taking a step back. She wouldn’t hear it.

“No, Raven, listen to me, please.”

Stubbornly, Raven crossed her arms and set her face.

Clarke started again, “I know that Finn hurt you. I know that I hurt you. But you’re the strongest person I know, Raven. And if I die, I need you to know that I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to have been your friend.”

“You’re not going to die, Griffin.”

But the statement felt forced. Clarke dying was a very real possibility. After a moment, they hugged tightly, allowing a few more tears to fall.

“If you die, I’m going to kill you,” Raven growled into her hair.

 

 

When the week was up and it was Bellamy’s day off again, he finally spoke.

“Don’t even think about sneaking out tonight.”

Clarke was so startled to hear him speak, she wasn’t even sure he had. But when she looked up, he was glaring at her.

“Are you going to stop me?”

His jaw twitched. “If I have to.”

Clarke held his gaze, challenging, until he huffed and rolled his eyes, turning away once more.

She was going to sneak out no matter what he said.

 

Clarke dropped down from the castle wall, feet landing softly in the grass. She looked around, making sure no one was watching, and dashed for the training grounds.

Bellamy had left for the night, per usual, but not before threatening her once more about sneaking out. Its not like he could have a guard monitor her window from inside and no knight was willing to stand at the bottom of the wall staring up- that was just ridiculous. So, she’d felt pretty confident about leaving.

When she jogged up to the training grounds, it didn’t sound like anyone was there. She retrieved a wooden sword- the real ones were still locked up and required a key- and took her position.

“I thought I told you not to come tonight.”

Clarke swung her sword, hitting the straw figure squarely in the head.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

She continued swinging, but stopped, thinking Bellamy might have left when he didn’t answer. When she turned, he was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, staring at her.

She wasn’t going to stop training just because he refused to talk to her. So, she turned back to the dummy and continued to practice.

A few minutes in she took a bad step, the sword loosened in her grip and she fumbled to hit the target. She recovered, expecting Bellamy to tell her that her feet were too wide or her elbow was too high. But when she turned, he was still just standing there, silent.

Fine- she thought, swinging the sword a little harder- be a dickhead. Each time she messed up, she stopped, hoping Bellamy would say something, anything. Each time she was disappointed.

It was getting late and Clarke was madder than she had been at the beginning. Usually training helped her burn off some steam, not work her up.

But if Bellamy was going to play this game, so was she. Clarke positioned herself in front of the target, acting like she was going to swing. But before she did, she switched her feet into an improper stance. It made her less balanced, but that was the point. Clarke adjusted her grip, holding the sword way too high on the hilt. She lifted the blade so her shoulder was bent at an awkward angle and began hacking at the dummy like she was chopping down a tree.

There was a strained sound, but Clarke didn’t stop, swinging the sword like a crazy person. Eventually, the position got the better of her and Clarke stumbled, falling forward. She tried to catch herself, twisting, but just ended up flat on her ass.

“Dammit, Clarke,” Bellamy growled, stepping forward to help her up. “That was the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, I learned from you.” Even in the darkness, she could see him narrow his eyes threateningly.

“Are you done being mad at me?” she asked, wiping off her pants.

He watched her a moment before answering, “I’m not mad at you, Clarke.”

“Really. What would you call it?”

Bellamy took the sword from her, tossing it away. “I feel bad.”

“What?”

His posture turned shy. “I feel bad, Clarke. You asked me to train you and I should’ve said yes. I knew that you were scared and that the threat was real.”

This was not what she had expected and Clarke wasn’t sure how to handle the change in events. She was sure he had been furious with her, but maybe she had misjudged his behavior. Maybe Bellamy had been feeling just as guilty as her. Either way, she was grateful he was actually talking again.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

He shuffled his feet, looking down at the ground, “For a while I only ever saw you as the Princess. This rich, spoiled, know it all. I didn’t expect you to be quite so… strong.”

“Is that still what you think of me?” She hated how vulnerable she sounded.

“No, of course not. It didn’t take me long to figure out that you weren’t who I thought you were.”

“So when you- when you changed your mind about me, why didn’t you agree to train me then?”

“I don’t know, Clarke. I wish I had, I really do. I hate that you had to disguise yourself from me just to get the help you needed.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“I know why you didn’t.”

Clarke took a step towards him. “You’re a good man, Bellamy. I never faulted you for it.”

He took a step forward too and they were finally close enough that they could see into each other’s eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. You’re the best man I know.”

“Is what Raven said-” he stopped short, not sure he wanted to go into this right now, but Clarke was gazing up at him with those wide beautiful eyes and he wanted to know the answer. “Is what Raven said true?”

Her eyes dropped to his lips, “Yes.”

Bellamy inhaled sharply. She loved him. Clarke loved him. And god, he loved her too.

“Isn’t this just the sweetest thing?”

Clarke and Bellamy jumped. Sir Wallace stood at the gate, hand on his sword. There was a man next to him, but it was too dark to tell who it was. It didn’t matter though; the man had a sword drawn as well.

They stepped forward and Bellamy pulled on Clarke’s shirt, angling himself in front of her protectively.

Shit, shit, shit. This couldn’t really be happening now, right? She gazed longingly over at the locked swords, but they were too far away and Bellamy had the key. The only weapon she had was the knife Raven had given to her- strapped to her ankle- and the wooden sword Bellamy had discarded, laying a few feet away. At least Bellamy had his weapon.

“Fancy meeting you two here,” the unknown knight said. As he stepped closer, Clarke recognized him. Sir Pike.

“Can we help you?” Bellamy said cordially, but his hand was inching towards his sword.

“We are here for the Princess. Step aside, little knight, and we wont hurt you.”

“There’s no princess here.”

Wallace snorted, “Oh please. Let’s not pretend I’m an idiot. Pike was going to sneak into her room tonight and kill her, but imagine his surprise when she wasn’t there. The window was open, though, and when he looked down he saw this grimy little thing crawling down the wall. It wasn’t hard to figure out where you’d gone.”

His eyes turned to Clarke, half hidden behind Bellamy’s shoulder. “Look at you, Princess. Dressed up like a little peasant boy. It’s genius, really. But it was only a matter of time before we came after you. You knew that though, didn’t you?”

“If you want to kill her, you’ll have to go through me,” Bellamy said roughly.

“Oh we will,” Pike sneered. “Princess? Are you sure you don’t want to just come over here and we can do this the easy way?”

“The only thing that’s going to be easy is me kicking your ass,” Clarke growled. It wasn’t her best line, but it seemed to do the trick. The knights advanced, raising their swords. Bellamy pushed Clarke out of the way.

“Run!” he shouted, but she dove to the ground for the wooden sword. It was better than nothing and there was no way she was going to leave him.

She watched as Bellamy warded the two men off expertly, dodging and slashing. But, Pike zoned in on her, alone on the ground. He grunted, swinging his sword and slashing Bellamy across the shoulder. Bellamy cried out and Pike broke off, headed for her. She was ready.

He swung down at her fast, but Clarke raised the wooden sword, blocking. It made a terrible cracking noise, but held strong. A few more hits and the wooden weapon would be toast.

She cried out, kicking at his shins and Pike grunted, taking a stumbling step back. He came back strong and Clarke barely dodged his blows. She was sure he was cutting her and she wasn’t noticing in the darkness, but adrenaline kept her body moving.

He took a step back, trying to regain his breath and Clarke reached down to draw her knife. It was now or never. She screamed, dropping the wooden sword and running full force. Surprised, Pike took an instinctive step backwards. Clarke hit him low, avoiding the sword and they tumbled to the ground. She stabbed the knife into whatever body part she could. Pike cried out in pain, but managed to turn them, getting on top of her. His sword was too long for such up close fighting and he fumbled to get it to her neck. Clarke gripped the knife tight and aimed for his eye.

“AHHH!” he cried and blood spurted all over her shirt. She stabbed again, feeling the knife hit bone. Pike slumped over, pinning her to the ground with his dead weight.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted, followed by a terrible scream. Desperately, Clarke scooted out from under Pike, picking up his sword as she stood. She advanced, ready to cut down Wallace, but he was already dead. Bellamy knelt on the ground, chest heaving, clutching his thigh.

“Are you okay?” he gasped.

She looked down at Pike’s dead body. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, he got me in the leg, but I’m fine.” It was too dark to tell what was clothing and what was blood on Bellamy’s leg, but she had a bad feeling most of it was blood.


	27. Chapter 27

Bellamy tried not to lean on Clarke too much, he knew she had been injured too, but the gash in his leg was deep and he could feel blood dripping into his socks.

They made it through the servant quarters with a few curious glances thrown their way, but Clarke was still in disguise, so no one recognized her. The stairs were a struggle and they had to take them one at a time for the sake of Bellamy’s leg. By the time they reached his room, both were both out of breath and sweating.

It was a blessing and a curse that Octavia and Lincoln were gone this week to visit Lincoln’s family. At least they didn’t have to worry about Octavia seeing them in this bloody, wounded state.

“Oh thank god,” Clarke groaned, helping Bellamy into the nearest chair.

“Sorry,” he grunted, clearly in pain.

“It’s fine,” she said, flinging her hat to the side and rubbing her face, “Just take your clothes off so I can see the damage.”

Bellamy hesitated and Clarke rolled her eyes, “Take your clothes of Bellamy, or die from blood loss. Your choice.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

He peeled his shirt off, groaning in pain. Clarke rushed to help and together they lifted it away. She hustled into the kitchen and began banging around looking for things. When she came back Bellamy was slumped in the chair, struggling to get his pants off.

“Here,” she said, bending down. Carefully she took a knife to the seam of his pants. They ripped right open and Bellamy and Clarke gaped at the cut in his leg. It was so deep she could practically see bone. Blood oozed from it uncontrollably. How had he even managed to walk back?

Clarke shook her head and got to work. Bellamy cried out as she poured a bottle of whiskey over it, his hands reaching out to clench the table.

“Bite down on this,” Clarke handed over a rag she had found in the kitchen and he obliged. His brown eyes were filled with tears and face was pale and covered in sweat. It hurt her to see him in so much pain. She reached out to brush curls from his face and ran a hand through the rest of his sweaty black hair in comfort. He closed his eyes at the contact, leaning into her hand. They stayed like that a moment, before Clarke knew she had get back to work.

She continued to clean the wound as best she could, chanting under her breath, “Please pass out, please pass out, please pass out.” If Bellamy lost consciousness at least he wouldn’t be able to feel what she was doing to him.

He groaned and whimpered as she began to stitch the wound.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” she whispered, as she threaded the needle through his skin. Clarke’s vision blurred and she used the back of her hand to wipe the tears away. It killed her to hear Bellamy’s tortured cries.

Something solid rested on Clarke’s shoulder and she looked up to see Bellamy’s hand. He nodded at her, urging her to go on. She nodded back, swallowing the tears, and finished the stitches. His hand stayed on her shoulder, squeezing hard each time she pushed the needle through.

The wound on his shoulder was not as severe as the one in his leg, but she cleaned it too. After, Clarke took the cloth from Bellamy’s mouth and threw it in a pot of boiling water, along with some others. He let out a sigh and flexed his hands.

“Thank you, Clarke.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” she gritted, facing the fire, “I almost got you killed tonight.”

“My job is to protect you, Clarke. I would sacrifice my life if it meant saving yours.”

She turned, her blonde hair swinging and eyes fierce, “I don’t want you to die for me, Bellamy.”

Then, without warning, Clarke stomped off out the door. Bellamy blinked a few times, making sure she was really gone. He started lifting himself up, in an attempt to follow her, but Clarke stomped back into the room before he could get to far. Confused, he collapsed back into the chair.

She was carrying a bucket of water and a scowl. He watched as she dumped the water angrily into the bathtub and left again. Bellamy didn’t say a word as she came back in and out with water at least twenty more times. The last time, she came in holding a pale full of steaming rocks and a large brown sack. Without fanfare, Clarke dumped the rocks into the bottom of the tub. Water splashed on her pants, but she seemed undeterred. She chucked the pale away and Bellamy flinched as it crashed noisily into the kitchen. Then, she dumped the bag she was carrying into the water as well. It looked like … salt?

Seemingly satisfied, Clarke looked at Bellamy and pointed to the tub, “Get in.”

It was obvious Clarke was in no mood for an argument, so Bellamy simply raised a brow and did as he was told. Before he could even start to get out of the chair she came to his side, tucking his arm over her shoulder to steady him.

Bellamy hissed when the hot water hit his feet, but Clarke just gave him a look that said ‘grow up’. When he was fully in the water, she stalked away towards the kitchen. He took the opportunity to take off his now wet underwear and socks and fling them away. Apparently, tonight was the night for throwing shit all over his room.

Clarke came back with a glass of water and some bread, pointedly averting her eyes from his naked body.

“You need to eat.” He did what he was told.

“Why the salt?” he asked once he was done eating. Clarke was near the fire, using a fork to retrieve the cloths from the boiling water and place them on a tray.

“It’ll keep your wounds from getting infected.”

He nodded. Clarke was nothing if not overly cautious when it came to medicine. Running the bar of soap over his body and through his hair, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She slumped forward at the table, face falling into her hands and shoulders shaking slightly. Bellamy continued with his bath, allowing Clarke her moment of privacy.

“Clarke, can you grab me a towel?”

She straightened and tried to hide a sniffle, “Sure.”

“Here.”

The towel was shoved in front of his face and he took it cautiously, trying to meet her eyes. He managed to hoist himself up on one foot and dry off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Bellamy maneuvered out of the tub. His leg gave out as soon as it hit the ground, but Clarke was there, under his arm to catch him.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. She didn’t respond.

Clarke led them to his bed and Bellamy groaned when his head hit the pillow. God, he was exhausted. She sat down on the bed and began wrapping his leg in the boiled bandaged. The pain was excruciating and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Her fingers were cold on his skin and he couldn’t help but notice they shook a little.

“Do you think they will find us here?” Clarke’s voice was low.

Bellamy tried to meet her eyes, but she still wouldn’t look at him and he was beginning to worry. He studied her as she lifted his arm to wrap the second injury, but she was hiding behind her hair like it was a curtain. Her face was still covered in that brown grime and there were a few swipes of blood along her chin.

“Not for a while. Only Monty, Jasper, Murphy and Miller know where I live.”

Clarke nodded, tying the bandage off, “Why do you live in the servant’s quarters, anyway?”

“It was the only room available, apparently,” he tried to shrug. Clarke looked around at the room. It was small, with a separate bedroom that Bellamy used, a kitchen, and living space that Octavia slept in. It was made for more than one person and none of the knights had their own kitchen.

“I bet Kane set this up for you,” she said, standing, “So you could be with Octavia.”

Bellamy hadn’t thought of that. Kane had always like him and his sister, and had been the one to assure Bellamy it was okay that Octavia come with him to the castle.

“Maybe,” Bellamy said, taking a look around his room and appreciating it more than he had before. "That means he knows where I live too."

This would be the true test, then. Was Kane on her mother's side or would be try to stop her from killing her own daughter? Clarke hoped it was the latter.

“Do you know what room is Harper’s?” Clarke said, changing the subject.

Bellamy was frustrated that she still wouldn’t look at him and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She was closed off, though, barely talking and avoiding him. It didn’t make sense.

“Clarke.”

“I think it’s on the second floor,” she continued.

“Clarke!” Bellamy barked. The Princess stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly. Her frosty blue gaze bore into his warm brown one and Bellamy suddenly wished she was still avoiding meeting his eyes.

“You can’t just leave, Clarke. You need to eat, to rest. We are safe enough here, for now.”

She blinked and took a deep breath. For a moment, Bellamy thought he had convinced her, but then Clarke leaned down to pick something up. Giving Bellamy a look, she plopped the hat down on her head and tucked in her loose blonde strands.

“Go to bed, Bellamy. I’ll be right back.”

He called out for her to stop, but the Princess was gone.

“Goddammit, Clarke.”

They both knew he couldn’t follow her. Bellamy slammed his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes and praying she would come back in one piece.

 

Clarke knew one day the men that killed her father would come for her. She hadn’t expected it to be tonight. How could she have been so stupid? Now Bellamy was hurt and unable to walk, she couldn’t return to the castle, and Pike and Wallace were dead.

Incapable of looking at Bellamy any longer- of looking at what she had caused- Clarke had left the room. She’d seen the way his eyes watered when she was wrapping the bandages. He was trying to hide the pain. Guilt sat like lead inside her, making her stomach ache.

Then, there was the whole problem of Bellamy being in his underwear. Clarke had gulped when she’d helped take his shirt off. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him shirtless before, but never in the light. The man was built broadly, but not bulky, without an ounce of fat. His messy hair was charming and his smirk was infuriating. She hated how attractive he was.

She’d handed him the towel, trying her best not to look down into the water. His bronze skin returned to its normal shade after soaking for a while and she couldn’t handle how damn sexy he looked. Clarke wanted to jump in the bath with him and-.

 _Bad Clarke_ , she thought. _Focus_. Bellamy was her knight and she was the Princess. So, Clarke, being Clarke, ran from the uncomfortable situation.

The second floor was empty when she came down the stairs. Clarke walked up and down the hallway, trying to think of the best way to find Harper. She didn’t want to knock on every door, but eventually realized she didn’t have much of a choice.

Here goes nothing, she thought, raising her fist to knock on the first door. But a familiar voice caught her attention, signing a very familiar song. Luck seemed to be on her side for the first time that night. Clarke shuffled down the hallway towards the room she thought she’d heard the voice coming from.

Clarke knocked. There was a scrabbling noise and a curse. Shit, maybe this wasn’t Harper’s room. She didn’t have time to turn around, because the door swung open.

“Clarke?” Harper questioned after a beat, tying a robe around her thin waist. Of course Harper would know it was her, she had seen the Jay disguise before.

Clarke smiled, “Harper. Mind if I come in?” Harper was confused, but opened the door wider for her to enter.

“What the-?” Clarke stopped at the sight of Sir Monty Green sound asleep in the bed.

Harper came up next to Clarke, twisting a lock of yellow hair around her finger. “We’re together now, but please don’t tell your knight. Sir Blake would have a fit if he knew Monty slept here every night.”

“I wont tell.”

The girl blew out a breath, relieved, and dropped the lock of hair from her finger. Harper deserved to find love, and from what Clarke knew of Sir Green, he was a good choice. Bellamy always said Monty was the smartest and kindest man he knew.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here Clarke?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. I actually came to ask you a favor.” Harper raised her brows. Clarke’s favors were never simple.

“Tonight, Bellamy and I were attacked in the knight training grounds. They were the same men that killed my father and they were trying to kill me,” Harper gasped and the sound made Monty twitch. Both women looked to the lump in the bed, but Monty just turned over and resumed breathing deeply.

“Anyway, we managed to kill them before they could kill us, but Bellamy is badly wounded,” Clarke gnawed on her lip at the thought of Bellamy alone upstairs, defenseless.

“What do you need from me?”

“I need you to cover for me. No one in the castle can know that we were attacked and I can’t go back tonight. I need to look after Bellamy,” Harper was nodding as Clarke spoke. “I just need you to pretend like I’m in my room. Eat my breakfast, pretend to talk to me once in a while… that’s all. None of the other knights should catch on, because Sir Blake is the only one supposed to guard me for the next few days anyway.”

“What if someone realizes you’re not there?”

Clarke glanced around the room, “Do you have a piece of paper and ink?”

“Uh, around here somewhere…” she wandered off and had to look through a few cabinets before finding any.

“Ah ha!” Harper called out and handed the items over to Clarke. Clarke sat at the table and began writing furiously on the page. Harper stood back, watching the Princess who was reading and re-reading what she had written, then adding a final sentence. Seemingly satisfied, Clarke handed the piece of paper over, “Here, if anyone gets suspicious just give this note to the Queen. Tell her you found it in my room.”

“Okay,” Harper took the piece of paper, folding it neatly, “What does it say?”

“It says that Sir Blake and I have fallen in love and decided to elope.”

“WHAT?” Harper shrieked, practically waking Monty again.

Clarke shrugged, “It’s not true, but it will distract my mother long enough for me to figure out what to do.”

She shook her head in dismay, “You’re crazy.”

“I know,” Clarke grinned, “Thank you Harper, really.”

The handmaiden gathered her up into a hug and Clarke squeaked in surprise.

“Of course, Clarke, I would do anything for you…. And whatever you’re planning, be safe.”

“I will try,” she pulled away from the embrace and gave Harper a reassuring smile.

She expected Bellamy to start yelling at her as soon as she walked in the door again. But when she entered, there was no shouting. Not even a sound. A quick glance and Clarke saw that Bellamy was fast asleep in bed. He hadn’t been able to put on real clothing, and had fallen asleep with the towel still wrapped around his waist. His skin was glowing in the dimming candlelight and his mouth was parted slightly. He looked so peaceful, so boyish. Nothing at all like the broody Sir Blake, Clarke was used to seeing. She fought the urge to run her hands through his curls again and feel their softness… or better yet down his hard chest.

 _Stop it_ , Griffin.

She shook her head and flopped down on Octavia’s bed. Clarke was asleep before she even had time to think.

 

Bellamy woke up to daylight. He stretched, trying to alleviate some of the soreness in his aching muscles. The wound in his biceps twinged at the movement.

Was he still wearing a towel? Shit. Last thing he remembered was Clarke storming off to go find Harper. Bellamy wanted to punch a wall at the though of the Princess wandering around by herself after everything else that had happened last night. He had been helpless to stop her and she had taken advantage of it.

Bellamy swung his legs off the bed and the towel fell away. He tested the pressure on his leg, taking one step and then another. It hurt like hell, but he would make do. Nothing was keeping him bedridden any longer, even if he did have to hobble around for the next few days.

Bellamy made his way to his dresser and pulled out a simple pair of pants and shirt. Eventually, after a considerable amount of cursing and stumbling around, he was dressed. He limped towards the door, fully intending to go find Clarke, the stupid woman. If she had gotten herself killed he was going to be pissed.

A deep throaty sound made him turn. Jesus. There she was- face down on Octavia’s bed, snoring and fully clothed. The damn woman had practically given him a heart attack, but the sight of her safe in his home eased his tension. He was definitely going to strangle her when she woke up, but for now she could use the rest.

About an hour or so later, Clarke started talking. Bellamy thought she might be awake, but when he looked, her eyes were still closed.

 _“Mom, please, no. Mom! Dad. Don’t go,_ ” she whimpered.

  
The desperate cries made his gut clench. Bellamy was seated in the kitchen chair, his leg throbbing with pain, but he knew he should wake her.

“Clarke! Clarke wake up!” he shouted. Still, the girl thrashed around pleading for someone to ‘stop!’.

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouted again. His leg hurt too much to get up, so he grabbed the nearest thing he could find and chucked it at her. The apple hit Clarke square in the forehead and she leapt up, practically falling to the floor when her feet got tangled in the blanket.

“What the fuck!”

“Sorry,” Bellamy smirked, returning to his breakfast, “I couldn’t get up and you were talking in your sleep.”

Clarke rubbed her forehead, “Oh, sorry.” She reached down to pick up the apple, “Did you really throw this at my head? I’m going to have a bump.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and glowered, “Did you really sleep in my sister’s bed in those dirty clothes?”

Clarke’s eyes widened as she took in her appearance. She was still wearing her disguise. The hat had fallen off her head onto the floor when she’d leapt up, but the makeup and dirt from her face was smudged into Octavia’s pillow.

“Oh god, I need a bath.”

Bellamy nodded, noting the way she hugged her arms around her stomach.

“I boiled two buckets of water, but that was the best I could do,” he pointed to the fire.

She seemed to perk up at that, grabbing the two buckets and hauling them over to the bath. A metal tinkling sound started as she began pulling out her hair. Half of it was already loose, but Clarke yanked at the rest, scattering pins across the floor.

She leaned over the side of the tub and dumped half the bucket on her head. Using the bar of soap she scrubbed furiously at her scalp and face, foaming up the brown gunk. She poured the rest of the bucket over her head to rinse it and sighed.

When she made a move to lift her shirt off, he jerked his eyes back to the table. The water splashed some more, but Bellamy refused to look.

“Ahh! Shit,” Clarke cried out and Bellamy whipped around. She was leaning over the tub, clutching at her side, her wet hair stuck to her back. There was an unusual brown cloth wrapped around her torso, but at least she wasn’t naked. He probably would’ve had a stroke right there in his kitchen.

“Clarke?”

A trickle of blood ran steadily down her side and she moved her hand so he could see, revealing a long red cut on her ribs. Damn, she had been sliced.

“Dammit, Clarke,” Bellamy growled.

Clarke shook her head, mad at herself too. “Pike swung at me and I tried to get out of the way. I felt him connect, but we got here last night and you were in such bad shape… I guess I was just distracted.”

“You need to take care of yourself too, Clarke.”

She didn’t reply, just cupped some leftover water from the bucket and dribbled it on her side.

“Do you need help?”

“No, its not deep enough to need stitches and I already cleaned it,” she shrugged, “It’s just going to hurt for a while.” Bellamy nodded, but he didn’t like the idea that Clarke was injured too. At least she could still protect herself if it was just him who was incapacitated. That wound was going to make swinging a sword, or a fist, incredibly painful.

She gave her shirt a rueful glare. It was covered in blood and dirt. Putting it back on with an open wound was just asking for an infection.

“Bellamy, can I borrow some clothes?”

He looked her up and down curiously, his eyes lingering on the wrap on her chest. She squirmed and he quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.

“O has some shirts you can borrow.”

“Uh, Octavia is a bit smaller than me. Last time I wore her clothes, I felt like I was suffocating.”

“Last time?”

Shit, she hadn’t meant to say that. The last time she had borrowed Octavia’s nightgown was when they had rung the castle bells. The night she found out Wells was dead.

Bellamy began to chuckle, surprising Clarke, “I knew that wasn’t your nightgown!”

What?

“You did not!” she said indignantly. Bellamy dipped his chin and gave her an exasperated look. He wasn’t stupid!

She huffed, “How’d you know?”

“Octavia’s nightgowns have blue butterflies stitched onto the back.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. God, she had been dumb.

He chuckled again and Clarke clicked her jaw shut.

“You can borrow one of mine,” he gestured towards the bedroom.

Relief filled her. It was one thing, being shirtless with a wrap covering her breasts while she was bathing. But walking around in a shirt that was skintight on her wet chest might be a little too much for Bellamy to handle.

Clarke padded away but he called her name, stopping her.

“What’s with this?” he moved his hand back and forth over his chest, indicating the wrapping and she floundered a bit.

“Uh, I wrap my chest when we train.”

“Why?”

Did he really want to know?

“If I don’t, it hurts to move around too much and stuff.”

Oh. Okay. Bellamy had not really been expecting such an informative answer. Clarke turned on her heel with bright red cheeks and he blinked. The thought of Clarke training without the wrap popped into his brain and he quickly shoved it away.

When she reentered the room, his throat went dry. Clarke was wearing one of his long white shirts. It hit her at mid-thigh, leaving her bare legs visible. She ran a few fingers through her long blonde hair, carrying the dirty pair of pants, and seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on him.

He tried to look away, he really did, but he’d never seen a woman wear his clothes before. Well, except Octavia. But Clarke, Clarke was a whole different story.

She tossed the pants on top of her equally ruined shirt and walked past Bellamy into the kitchen. He noticed a brown cloth peeking out from under her discarded trousers and gulped. She had taken off the wrap as well.

Clarke meandered towards the counter and grabbed a piece of bread to nibble on. When she looked up, Bellamy’s eyes were on her.

“What?” She bit into the bread.

Bellamy shifted in the chair and turned his chin, “Nothing.”

Clarke continued eating, trying to figure out what he was thinking. For a moment, it had looked like Bellamy wanted her. The thought had sent a wave of heat to her belly. She wanted him too.

She was wearing his shirt with nothing underneath for goodness sakes. But then he had turned away and Clarke internally sighed. Bellamy could have any woman he wanted, why would he want a Princess with too much baggage?

They spent the rest of the day doing nothing but eating and making small talk. Neither of them wanted to speak about the elephant in the room. The Queen would be looking for Clarke soon, if she weren’t already. There would be more assassins trying to kill her. Or maybe, Queen Abby had found the dead knights and was just as lost as Clarke about what to do next.

They fell asleep before the sun went down, both of them needing the rest.


	28. Chapter 28

It was afternoon the next day and Clarke was still wearing one of Bellamy’s shirts. She had exchanged the first one for a cleaner dark blue one. Bellamy tried not to think about it, but twice she had caught him looking at her bare legs and he was finding it harder and harder not to do or say something.

He was finally able to walk, with a big limp, but walk nonetheless. The rest and food had done him good. Clarke had changed his bandages every five hours, and even made him drink this tea she claimed would help. It did and he forced her to drink two cups worth as well.

They were sitting on the ground by the fire, leaned up against Octavia’s bed. He was reading a book of poems and she was sketching on a piece of paper he had torn out from one of his least favorite novels.

“We need a plan,” she said, her fingers stopping their work on the paper. He closed the book with a sigh.

“You said Harper was covering for you.”

 “She is, but that isn’t likely to last long,” Clarke paused, “If my mom sent Pike and Wallace, then she knows we killed them. Someone would’ve told her about the bodies. If Harper gives her my note, she will never believe it. She’ll know I’m lying.”

“And if she isn’t the one who sent them?” It was unlikely that Queen Abby hadn’t sent the men, but they had to plan for every possible situation.

Bellamy looked to Clarke. Her blonde hair was curled wildly around her face and her blue eyes were staring intently into the fire. Shadows of the flames danced across her cheeks. 

“If she didn’t send them, then she may believe the letter I wrote. But she will be furious and she’ll come looking for us.”

“What did the note say?”

Clarke bit her lip and dropped her gaze. She was hiding something.

“Princess…” he prodded.

“It said we were inloveandthatweeloped,” she mumbled.

“What!” he cried out, standing, “Are you insane?” The book he had been reading thumped onto the ground.

She looked up at him sharply, “Look, I didn’t know what else to say that would be believable. It needed to be an excuse for both of us!”

Bellamy stared into the fire, bewildered. It needed to be something her mother would believe…

He ran a hand through his hair, “You really think she would believe that?”

Clarke caught his eye and shrugged, “She knows we care about each other… that we are close. I don’t think she would doubt it. But, again, the note only works if she wasn’t the one who sent them.”

A blush slowly started to creep up her neck. Before they’d been attacked she’d was ready to confess her love for him and he seemed ready to grab her face and kiss her senseless. Things felt different now, more dangerous. Was there even time for any of that anymore? Was it just a heat of the moment thing?

She could feel Bellamy’s intense gaze, but avoided looking at him by standing up and rubbing her hands free of charcoal.

“I think…” Bellamy’s voice broke and Clarke’s eyes lifted to his nervously. “I think you are my best friend, Clarke.”

A smile broke out on her face, “You’re my best friend too, Bellamy.”

She took a tentative step forward and Bellamy froze. What was she doing? Between one instant and the next, Clarke slung her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. He made a surprised sound at the contact, but recovered quickly. Bellamy pulled her against him hard. They stayed like that for minutes, breathing each other in, until Clarke pulled away. Bellamy let her go, wishing he didn’t have to.

Her hands remained on his shoulders as she stepped back and Bellamy noticed she was a little breathless. Clarke’s lips parted slightly under his gaze. He forced himself to look away. This was dangerous territory. Before Wallace and Pike had shown up, he was sure she was going to open up to him. Confess her feelings. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe she didn’t feel for him the way he felt for her.

“We should get some sleep.”

Clarke gulped and took a step back, nodding. Bellamy walked to his room faster than a man with a hurt leg should. He needed to get away from Clarke, before he did something stupid, like kiss her.

Once in his room, Bellamy sank onto the bed. _Fuck_. How was he going to be able to sleep with Clarke in the next room? Clarke, who looked so good wearing his fucking shirt. Clarke, who he had trained to use a sword without even knowing it was her. Clarke, who was brilliant and clever. Clarke, the Princess. Clarke, his best friend. She was so many things to him now, and he cursed himself for wanting more.

“Bellamy?” her voice was soft. He grunted. The door opened slowly.

“Are you okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine, Clarke, just go to bed.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Just let it go, Clarke. I’m worried about us being found, okay?”

She narrowed her eyes, not believing him. “You’re lying.”

“Just leave me alone, Princess!” he snapped and Clarke took a startled step backwards. He immediately knew he should apologize, but Clarke’s shock turned to stubbornness before he could.

“No.”

“What?”

“You heard me. No. I’m not going to leave you alone." 

Clarke stood a few feet in front of him, her small fists clenched at her sides, and chest rising sharply. He wanted nothing more than throw her down on the bed and pin her beneath him.

_Get ahold of yourself, Blake._

“Clarke…” he ran a hand over his face, “I-”

“You listen to me, Sir Blake. I know I am the Princess and I know you are my knight and I know my mother is trying to kill me, but _I don’t care_.” Bellamy’s mouth dropped and she stepped closer, now only a few inches above him, eyes blazing. “I love you and tonight I don’t give a fuck about anything else.”

And then her mouth was on his, hot and heavy, her body practically forcing him backward. Through it all, Bellamy just sat there like an idiot, unable to process what was going on. When she realized he wasn’t reciprocating the kiss, Clarke pulled back quickly, throwing a hand over her mouth, embarrassed.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I thought-”

Bellamy’s brain finally caught up and he thrust a hand out, catching her behind the neck and pulling her back. Clarke gasped and they toppled backwards onto the bed. There was nothing one sided about this kiss. He dug his fingers into her hips, making her hiss, and she slid her hand into his curls, making him groan. They had spent so long arguing, fighting… flirting, that the kiss was frantic. He wanted to feel all of her all at once.  

Abruptly, Clarke pulled back and Bellamy growled at the loss of her body against his.

“Do you want this?” she asked between breaths, her lips swollen and blue eyes almost black.

Bellamy blinked, “Are you kidding? I want you more than anything.”

She smiled down at him and his heart thumped in his chest.

“I just wanted to make sure, since I kind of attacked you.”

“No, you didn’t just kind of attack me. It was a full blown ambush.”

 Clarke punched him in the chest playfully, but Bellamy caught her wrist, slowly bringing it down to his lips. Her smile dropped, replaced by heat.

Lifting his other hand, Bellamy slowly pulled Clarke back down onto him. They moved against each other slower than before, no longer urgent. Bellamy wanted to show her how much he cared about her. He wanted to take his time learning what she liked, listening to the sounds she made when he did something good and then doing them again.

Bellamy wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs and pulled her on top of him more solidly. She groaned as his hardness slid between her legs and the sound sent blood straight to his crotch. 

He kissed his way down her neck, sucking and licking at the ivory skin, hoping she would make that delicious sound again. When he got to her pulse point, Bellamy latched on and sucked hard. Clarke moaned, her hips lurching forward. The pressure between her legs was becoming unbearable. 

Clarke dug her nails into his scalp and brought his face back to hers, “Bellamy, please.”

“Tell me what you need, Princess.”

“Touch me, please,” she rasped, leaning down to nibble at his earlobe.

Bellamy flipped them quickly, pinning her body beneath his- the pain in his leg only a dull throb. He dropped his hand down to her inner thighs, tracing the soft skin there until Clarke was practically shaking in anticipation. He lifted his hand to, finally, touch her and almost gasped when he found that there wasn’t any clothing in his way. She was bare. 

“Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear, Clarke,” his voice was dark and Clarke stifled a cry when he slipped one finger into her, “Christ, you’re so wet.”

He started moving in and out of her slowly, bringing his thumb down onto her clit. She threw her head back at the sensation and he rubbed harder.

“More,” she begged, yanking on his hair.

Bellamy smirked and sunk another finger into her hot entrance. Of course his princess wanted more. Her hips rocked with his motions and he used his other hand to cup her breasts outside of the shirt, pinching at her hard nipples. Soon, her insides were fluttering.

“Look at me, Princess,” he ordered. Clarke’s eyes snapped to his and he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so gorgeous. She was flushed and needy and it was all because of him.

“Bellamy,” she whimpered. He gave her a chaste kiss, his thumb moving faster on her clit.

“I want you to look at me the first time I make you come.”

That did it. Clarke cried out as her hips jutted forward, unable to hold back any longer and the orgasm washed over her. She kept her eyes on him and he stared back, lips parted, watching as she shook around his hand. He whispered sweet things to her, telling her how good she looked, how good she felt, and how he couldn’t wait to be inside her. Clarke couldn’t hear over the roaring in her ears. 

Gradually, his fingers slowed. He pulled them out slowly and Clarke whimpered at the loss.

“Oh my god,” she breathed and Bellamy smiled, pleased with himself, leaning down to kiss her.

She lay there for a moment, basking, until she realized Bellamy was still dressed. Frantically, Clarke reached down to shove away his pants and Bellamy chuckled at her hurriedness. He helped her, removing his pants and shirt and flinching when the bandage caught. She reached to unbutton the shirt she was wearing, tossing it to the side.  

“Fuck,” he breathed and Clarke squirmed under his gaze. Her breasts were even better than he imagined. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” she said, looking up at him from hooded eyes.

Bellamy slid on top once more and her legs parted, making room for him. She whimpered when his cock brushed against her center.

Bellamy reached down, guiding himself to her entrance, but Clarke flinched at the first touch and he stopped. When he looked up, her eyes were bunched close and her hands were gripping the sheets hard.

“Clarke,” he said and she opened her eyes. If she didn’t want this he would stop right now. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” she said, but Bellamy could hear the hesitation.

“I would be happy just making you feel good the rest of the night,” he murmured, bringing his mouth to her bare stomach, the intent obvious as he moved farther down. She inhaled sharply, but brought her hands to his hair to pull him back up.

“No, I want you inside of me.”

Bellamy groaned and lurched to kiss her. He never thought he would hear those words out of Clarke Griffin’s mouth.

“Are you sure?” he mumbled against her lips and she nodded, but the trepidation was still there and he pulled back.

“Clarke,” he said firmer. She seemed to splinter under his steady gaze.

“I didn’t like it the last time. Finn-” she started, but stopped when Bellamy went stiff above her. The name alone made him furious. She took a moment before continuing, her voice still small. “Finn said I wasn’t good at it.”

If Bellamy could go back in time and make sure no one ever made Clarke doubt herself, he would. She deserved the world, not the shit she’d been put through. He wanted to give that to her.

Bellamy brought a hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. She looked embarrassed, shy even.

“If you didn’t like it, then he was the one that wasn’t good at it, Clarke. Do you understand?”

It took a moment for her to answer and Bellamy raised a brow. 

“Yes," she said softly. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. She didn't think she had ever wanted anything this badly. 

 He shifted his hips, moving his cock along her folds and coating himself in her juices. Clarke twitched and moaned beneath him.

“Tell me to stop and I will, Clarke. I promise.”

“Please, Bell,” she whined. “I want you.”

Slowly, he entered her and Clarke’s eyes rolled back in her head. He paused when he was fully inside to give her time to adjust. After a moment, Clarke dug her nails into his back and bucked her hips a little, urging him on.

Bellamy groaned and began thrusting in and out of her slowly.

This was nothing like being with Finn. Bellamy surrounded her, made her feel full and safe all at once. He moved like he was trying to remember everything about her. And Clarke gasped at every drag of his cock inside of her. It was too much and not enough. 

“More,” she moaned and he obliged, rocking a little harder.

He wasn’t going to last long. The sounds she made alone were killing him. Bellamy dropped his hand between them, putting pressure on her clit but not rubbing. She was still sensitive from her first orgasm.

“That’s it, Princess,” he said when he felt her insides tightening. “Come on, Clarke. Together.”

He leaned down, sucking hard on one of her nipples and Clarke arched her back in pleasure, another orgasm ripping through her. Bellamy couldn’t hold on any longer and let out a guttural groan, emptying himself inside her with deep thrusts.

 

 

 

 

 

They lay in bed later than night, staring at each other over the pillows. Immediately after they had finished, Clarke sat up and began yelling at Bellamy for not telling her his leg was bleeding. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t known. His mind had been a bit preoccupied. Clarke had changed the bandages, grumbling under her breath about stupid men who think they’re invincible. As soon as she was done, Bellamy grabbed her by the waist, earning a squeal, and yanked her back into bed. Now, looking at her in the moonlight he couldn’t believe it had taken them this long.

“I love you, Clarke, I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier.”

She smiled, running a hand through his curls and down his cheekbone, “Its okay. I knew.”

He kissed her fingertips. Something dark flickered over her face.

“I’m scared, Bellamy.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want you to die trying to save me.”

“I don’t want to die trying to save you either.” Clarke kneed him in the gut.

“ _Ooof_.”

“I’m serious!”

“Clarke, listen to me. You’re not going to die and neither am I. We are going to figure this out, I promise. We will upend your mother’s power and make sure the people of Ark are healthy.”

“How?” she asked, searching his face. It seemed like an impossible task.

“Well,” he drawled, “I did have an idea.”

 

 

They spent the night going over Bellamy’s plan. It needed a few adjustments, but Clarke was happy to make those. They went over it, again and again, checking for holes and ironing out the details. They ate while they worked, keeping a close eye on the door and sounds outside-only taking breaks to fall back into bed for thirty minutes or so.

By morning, Bellamy and Clarke would be ready to save Ark Kingdom. Kind of.


	29. Chapter 29

Bellamy and Clarke walked through the castle grounds, trying to keep their heads down. Clarke was in her Jay disguise and Bellamy had slicked his hair back and added some grease to his cheeks. It wasn’t the best camouflage, but his inky curls were so recognizable that it did the trick.

They talked softly to one another. Rehearsing the plan over and over. Clarke was going to sneak into the castle, go up to her room and retrieve her sword and drawing book. She wouldn’t be caught without a weapon again. Bellamy hated the idea of them separating, but if they went together they were more likely to be caught.

It was Saturday and court would be in full swing. Bellamy was to go to the throne room and take a seat and wait for Clarke to return. Once they met up in court, the real scheme would be enacted. 

The entire thing rested on neither of them being recognized. It wasn’t fool proof, but it was the best they had.

“Hey, Blake,” someone called, pulling them out of their conversation.

“Oh, hey,” Bellamy said. Sir Murphy sauntered up, an unfamiliar girl at his side. 

“What are you doing with the runt?” Murphy’s eyes turned to Clarke, suddenly suspicious, “Why aren’t you with the Princess?”

Then he blinked. And blinked again. His eyes dropped down to Jay's raggedy pants, up to the dirty shirt, and stopped on her face.

“ _Clarke_?”

“Be quiet, Murphy,” Bellamy whispered, ushering them to the other side of the building where there was less foot traffic.

“Clarke, why the hell are you dressed like that?”

“Shut up, Murphy,” she growled. They really didn’t have time for this.

Murphy’s eyes narrowed, “Wait a minute. You look like that boy from the other night… Holy shit!” he turned to Bellamy, “You were training _Clarke_ this whole time?”

Bellamy exchanged glances with Clarke and she shrugged.

“Yeah, it was her the whole time.”

“Who knew you had it in you, Princess?” Murphy said, looking impressed.

“Wait a minute,” the girl next to Murphy spoke for the first time, “ _You’re_ Clarke? Princess Clarke?”

The Princess furrowed her brow in response.

“John wouldn’t shut up about you for weeks.”  John? Murphy’s first name was John?

She stuck her hand out and Clarke tentatively took it, “I’m Emori.”

“Nice to meet you, are you and Murphy…?”

“We’re together,” she smiled, throwing her arm around Murphy’s shoulders. He harrumphed, but didn’t move from under her arm. 

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you,” Emori said, eyes glinting.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure Murphy always talks about how much he _loves_ me,” Clarke rolled her eyes sarcastically. 

“What are you talking about? He likes you.” 

Clarke laughed. Yeah, right.

“John doesn't talk about the people he hates, there's too many. He rants about you because he's mad at himself for actually liking you, Princess. Even though he doesn't want to." 

“ _Hey_!” Murphy shouted indignantly, “That is not true.”

“Yes it is,” Emori poked him in the side. Was it true?  Clarke thought Murphy just despised her. 

Murphy opened his mouth to argue, but Clarke interrupted.

“Don’t worry, Murphy. Your secret is safe with me.” 

“There is no secret,” he grumbled.

“Yes there is,” Clarke laughed, “John Murphy actually _likes_ someone! Who knew you had it in you?”

“Shut up, Clarke.”

“I didn’t even know you _had_ feelings,” she said playfully.

“You’re one to talk,” he snapped.

“Hey! I have feelings.”

Murphy snorted, “Yeah, maybe two.”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Emori commented under her breath as Murphy and Clarke continued to argue about which one of them had more than two emotions.

“Clarke,” Bellamy butt in, “I think we’d better get going.”

“Shit!”

Dammit, she had gotten distracted arguing with Murphy and now they were running late. But as they hustled away, Clarke couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Murphy not hating her anymore. They were both angry, abrasive people. Maybe they were just bound to become friends eventually.

 

 

 

 

“You ready, Princess?” Bellamy asked quietly as they reached the castle doors.

In answer, she lifted onto her toes, kissing him gently. Bellamy met her softness with heat, pulling her tight against his chest and digging his hand into the back of her neck. She groaned, flattening him against the wall. If anybody was watching, they’d be very distraught at the sight of a small boy making out with a full-grown knight.

They parted, harsh breaths mingling and faces flushed.

“Be safe, Clarke.”

“I will. Don’t do anything reckless, Bellamy.” 

“Never,” he smirked.

“See you on the other side.”

 

 

Clarke managed to get up to her room without running into anybody. In fact, the castle was pretty empty. Everyone must be in the throne room. She slid the sword out from where it was stashed in her mattress and rushed to change clothes. Jay had gotten her into the castle, but Clarke had to show up to court looking like a princess if she wanted the people to listen.

Clarke managed to slide the sword into her waistband and corset, holding it in place. She threw on a cloak to hide it and rushed down the steps, praying her luck would hold out and no one would be around.

She opened the throne room doors, intending to slip in and stay near the back till she spotted Bellamy. But when she walked into the room, she stopped cold. No one was here.

That wasn’t right. Terror pulsed in her veins.

Clarke spun around, intending to flee, but she ran straight into something solid and it knocked her to the ground. She shook her head, trying to focus through the confusion, but then someone was lifting her by the arm, dragging her farther into the room. The large figure deposited her in the middle of the floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She reached for her sword, but then there was a hand, slapping her across the face and making her shriek.

Clarke recovered enough to look up and see who was above her. Sir Emerson.

“Don’t hit her again.”

Clarke spun to voice, watching as Abby emerged from the shadows behind the raised floor and into the light. 

“Mom?” 

“Clarke, honey. Its good to see you.”

“What’s going on? Why isn’t there court today?”

Abby sighed, taking her seat in the throne. “You always did have a flair for the dramatics, didn’t you?”

She searched around the room, noticing that there were other knights here- watching silently from the walls. One thing was becoming very clear to Clarke. This was a set up. And she was in biiiiiggg trouble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clarke’s voice shook. Where the hell was Bellamy?

“You came today to stand up in court and tell the crowd all those nasty lies about me! You were going to destroy me, Clarke! Destroy the Griffin name.” 

Her mother had known she was going to try and stop her. She must've canceled court to set this trap. 

“They aren’t lies,” Clarke snapped, eyes blaring into her mothers. Abby took a deep breath, adjusting her hands on the throne. 

“We saw what you did to Sir Wallace and Sir Pike. I have to say, Clarke, I didn’t realize you were quite so… dangerous.” Abby sounded so calm, so cold.

Clarke stood and Emerson went to shove her back down, but Abby shook her head, allowing it.

“Where is Sir Blake?” He was supposed to meet her here, but he wasn’t. Clarke feared the worst.

Abby motioned to two of her knights and they retreated into the shadows, bringing back with them a bound and gagged Bellamy. Clarke stifled a cry. _He was alive._ There was a bleeding wound on his head and his shirt had been ripped, but his eyes were alert, completely focused on her. They screamed at her to run, to leave and get out of here.

But she wasn’t going to leave him.

“Let him go,” Clarke ordered.

“Did you tell him?” Abby asked, ignoring her. She was asking if Clarke had told him about the water. There was only one answer.

“No." 

“You’re lying.” 

“Why would I do that?” Clarke said, reaching for the sword hidden under the cloak. Emerson was behind her and if she moved slowly enough, he might not notice.

“Because you love him.”

Clarke’s eyes met Bellamy’s. “If I loved him, why would I put him in danger by telling him?”

 Pausing, Abby took a moment to think about it. It was a good point. Yet…

“Clarke, I don’t want to kill you.”

“Then don’t.”

Her hand was almost to the sword pommel, just a few more inches.

“You have to promise you wont tell anyone. You wont be allowed to attend court anymore, or visit the town. You have to swear to me that you aren’t going to ruin this family or the kingdom. Don’t be selfish about this, Clarke.” 

Clarke knew what she _should_ say.

“People are dying, Mom.”

Thelonius Jaha was suddenly there, whispering something in the Queen's ear. Not even looking at Clarke. 

“The ground will flush itself of toxins, Clarke. It’ll only take a few years.”

A few years where men, women and children died senselessly. A few years where they could be curing the people, not killing them. 

“You know I can’t agree to that. Its not what Dad wanted. Its not what’s best for the kingdom.”

A tear rolled down Abby’s cheek. “Very well. Take her.”

Clarke was waiting for this moment. She drew her sword, lancing it behind her to catch Emerson in the gut. He walked right into the blade, crying out in pain and dropping. Clarke ran forward, towards Bellamy, but he was so far away. There were knights advancing towards her, swords drawn. Clarke tried to fight them off, using her thin blade to stab and slice. But there were just too many.

She was a yard from Bellamy when the knights finally overpowered her, slamming her chin to the ground. He was screaming, voice muffled by the cloth in his mouth, fighting viciously against the bonds.

The knights drug Clarke back by her hair, stopping when a deep voice shouted. 

“STOP!” 

Only one person mattered in that moment. Her eyes met Bellamy’s, fearful and wild. He was desperate to get to her, to save her, but the bindings were too tight and the knights next to him had their swords at his throat. Clarke tried to get away, she did, but it was no use. They were too strong.

She didn’t want this to be the end.

“I love you,” she whispered, begging him with her eyes to understand. Clarke loved him, she always would.

Bellamy’s eyes widened, tears sliding down his face. He said something back, but the cloth made it unintelligible.

_I love you too._

“Abby, don’t do this,” Marcus Kane said. Where had he come from? It was as if people were appearing from the walls. Or maybe Clarke was just too focused on Bellamy to notice.

"She will never let this go, Your Majesty," Lord Jaha said. 

A tear rolled down the Queen’s cheek. “I have to.”

“No you don’t. Please, Abby, you cant-” 

“Enough,” she said sharply. Abby stood, looking down at her daughter with remorseful eyes. “As long as she’s alive, she poses a threat to this kingdom.”

The only threat was the woman wearing the crown. 

“Please, mom,” Clarke begged.

“Take her outside. Let me know when it’s done.”

Abby turned on her heel, Jaha followed. Kane shouted for them to stop, but it was too late. He searched helplessly around, guilt stricken eyes landing on Clarke as the knights pulled her backwards. 

Clarke screamed. 

She looked to Bellamy one last time, but he was hunched over as the knights drove their knives into his belly. 

“ _NO_!”

Someone shoved something into her mouth. The knights, with a tight hold on her hair, drug her out of the throne room and into the cold hallways. The last thing she saw was Bellamy dead, slumped over in a pond of his own blood.

 

 

 

 

She didn’t remember getting outside, but here she was, under a tree, head in the grass. Three men stood above her, discussing the least messy way to kill someone. A gold glint caught her eye- her sword, held loosely in someone’s grip.

She'd only have one chance.

Clarke lunged for it, startling the men out of their conversation.

“Shit! She’s awake.”

The blade sliced her hands as she fumbled for the pommel and a knight stomped down, trying to pin the weapon to the ground, but Clarke was too fast. She swiped it upwards, catching him in the neck.

Clarke stumbled upwards, darting the sword out to catch another knight in the shoulder.

In the chaos, she ran. Her dress caught on her feet, but Clarke kept going, swinging the sword behind her wildly. The knights were shouting, trying to catch her and disarm her, but she had surprised them.

Clarke sprinted away, tears blinding her. When she heard a noise, she ran faster. When she was too tired to keep going, she didn’t stop.


	30. Chapter 30

Clarke looked down at the sleeping girl in her lap and her heart ached. The brown curls and bronze skin of the child were so familiar to her and yet so forgotten. Madi looked just like her father, save the bright blue eyes that Clarke knew she had inherited from her.

Madi’s chest rose and fell as she slept deeply.

It had been six years. Six years since she was beaten and escaped. Six years since she watched as Bellamy was stabbed in the gut and she was drug away by her hair. It had been a little over a year since the knights gave up searching for her. Five years must’ve been a long enough time for her mother to believe she was dead. It had been two years since Mount Weather...

It was time to go home.

Clarke packed what little things her and Madi had accumulated and left their home in the valley.

“Where are we going, Mom?” Madi asked with wide eyes.

Clarke reached out to take the girl’s hand, “To the castle, baby, we are going to the castle.”

Madi had never seen anything out of the valley or the small towns they frequented. She’d been to Mount Weather, but neither of them wanted to remember that. The castle and royal grounds would be entirely new to the child.

The walk was long, as they had to follow the river instead of the main paths. Clarke did not want to get recognized on the road. She and Madi knew how to travel quietly and safely in the forest. They stopped only a few times to rest and eat and when Madi got tired, Clarke carried her. By the time night fell, both women were exhausted.

Their journey lasted two more full days before Clarke recognized the fork in the river and town it would lead to. Madi had been chatty that day, knowing they were nearing their destination. As the child’s wonder grew, Clarke only got more and more anxious.

They walked for a few more hours until a familiar structure came into view. It wasn’t the castle, which was another half days trek away. No, this was a house Clarke had seen as a child numerous times. It was smaller than she remembered and a bit more dilapidated.

She bent down to look into her daughter’s familiar eyes, “Madi, we have to visit an old friend of mine before we can go to the castle, okay?” The girl nodded.

Clarke’s tone turned earnest, “Don’t answer any of his questions, okay? Let Mom do all the talking.”

Madi seemed to understand the seriousness of Clarke’s tone, because she nodded more sharply, “I won’t say anything.”

Satisfied, Clarke gave her a hug and they headed up the long dirt road to the estate she used to think of as a second home. 

Two things came to Clarke’s attention as they neared the main house. One, there didn’t seem to be anyone there. There were no servants hustling about the grounds, no sounds coming from any of the buildings, and no livestock in the fields. The second thing she realized was that she hadn’t planned what she was going to say. Clarke Griffin never did anything without a well thought out plan. Still, her legs seemed to carry her to the door.

Clarke brought her fist to knock, but hesitated. Then she looked down at Madi, who was swaying with exhaustion and hunger. Without a second thought, Clarke scooped the young girl up to her hip. Madi’s head rested on Clarke’s shoulder immediately.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke turned back towards the door and knocked harshly. No one answered. She knocked again. They stayed at the front door for a few minutes, waiting.

Just when Clarke was about the leave, the door swung open. She tried not to be startled by the man who stood inside.

Lord Jaha had seen better days. The bags under his eyes made it look as if he had not slept in years. He had grown a beard that was unkempt and grey. What alarmed Clarke most was the vacant look in his eyes.

“Thelonious,” she said as greeting. The large man blinked a few times, as if not understanding what he was seeing.

“Clarke?”

“Yes, its me. We’ve been walking for days, do you mind if we come in?” At the word _we_ Lord Jaha’s eyes zeroed in on the child in Clarke’s arms, just noticing her.

The man cleared his throat and visibly shook his head, “Yes, yes, come in.”

As Clarke stepped into the large mansion, she gulped. It was not well lit, the way she had remembered, and nothing seemed to be in the right place. Candle sticks were strewn about the ground, along with plates, and a horse saddle? The place had not seen a mop in years either.

Lord Jaha led her to the kitchen and busied himself with boiling tea, while Clarke took a seat, bringing Madi, who was now asleep, onto her lap. 

“I thought you were dead.” He stood over the stove, back hunched.

“Not yet.”

He turned to her then, eyes wild, “Your mother thinks that you’re dead.”

The reminder of her mother made Clarke grit her teeth. How long had it been since she had thought of Abby? Weeks, maybe months. Only on her worst days did Clarke allow herself to think of the Queen and her betrayal. 

She may have spent six years practically alone, but nothing could shake Clarke’s inherent boldness. 

“You and my mother saw to that.”

Lord Jaha stiffened at the statement as Clarke stared, unrelenting. 

He opened his mouth to say something, shut it, and then opened it again. Finally, he said, “We wanted to protect the kingdom.”

She couldn’t help but snort, “And how is that working out for you?”

Lord Jaha bowed his head. He and Clarke both knew the kingdom was sick. Six years ago, only a few cases of illness had plagued the townsfolk. Now, women were lucky if their babies made it to term. And luckier, even, if the child lived past the age of three.

“The Queen’s decision to keep this secret is killing the people of Ark Kingdom. Your compliance, and support, is the reason thousands of people are dead, Thelonious.”

“I know,” he said quietly. The tea was boiling now and he turned to pour two cups, head hung. Clarke watched as the large man set the tea on the table and practically collapsed into the chair.

“I know what I’ve done, Clarke. I have tried to reach out to Abby, tried to attend court, but she wont allow me anywhere near the castle,” his eyes met hers, “she knows I want to tell the people the truth.”

That was news to her, but she didn’t show it. If Thelonius wasn’t allowed in the castle, that could explain his mental state. And the state of the house.

Clarke took a sip of tea and shifted Madi on her lap, “I came here, because I need your help.”

“I don’t know how much help I can offer, Clarke. I hold no more power within the kingdom.” 

Clarke nodded solemnly, “You said you wanted to tell the people the truth. If that’s true, you’ll help me.”

Jaha looked at the blonde girl in front of him. She had grown so much since he had last seen her. Her hair was short, with red at the end, and her body was slimmer now. Gone was the Princess. The woman in front of him was wild and he could tell by the look in her eye she was fiercer than ever.

“I will do what I can, Clarke. For you… and for the kingdom.” She smiled her acknowledgement and the two sat in silence as they drank their tea.

Jaha had helped Queen Abby try and kill Clarke six years ago. They both remembered it. But they'd both been through so much since then. Clarke had made peace with it. The world didn't owe her anything. No body was going to save her. Jaha did what he had to do, just like she always did. 

“So,” he drew out the word and pointed to Madi, “is that a stray you picked up along the way?”  

 Clarke ran a hand through the girl’s brown curls.

“No, not a stray. Madi is my daughter.” Jaha’s eyes widened as he looked between the two women.

“Your daughter?”

“Yes. I was pregnant when the royal guards drug me out of the castle and brought me into the woods to kill me,” she said bitterly.

Jaha gulped, his eyes glued to the child in Clarke’s lap, “I didn’t know.”

“No one did.”

She hadn’t known she was pregnant, either, until two months later. She couldn’t figure how she could be on the brink of starvation, but still gaining weight. The realization that she was pregnant set in after weeks of morning sickness and her breasts hurting every time she moved.

“Is she Lord Collin’s child?” Jaha asked. 

“Absolutely not,” Clarke said horrified. When she didn’t explain further, Lord Jaha took another sip of tea. He decided to shift gears, knowing he wasn’t going to get any more information on the subject.

“Right so, what exactly is it that you need me to do Clarke?”

“I need to get into the castle.”

“I told you I’m not allowed there anymore.”

“No, but you will be.” Obviously, she had a plan.

“I’m assuming you’re going to tell me how…”

 Clarke looked around, “Can we eat something first?”

 

Clarke and Lord Jaha had spent all evening talking and formulating a plan. He had stared at her funny the whole time, as if not sure she was really there. Or maybe he was worried she was there to kill him, for revenge. Clarke liked that he was nervous around her. It was the least he deserved for what he had done. She wasn't going to kill him, not yet anyway. Lord Jaha was going to help Clarke save Ark Kingdom, once and for all. 

By the end of the night, Clarke and Madi were well fed and tucked into bed. Clarke couldn't sleep, though. The mattress was way too soft compared to the leaves and dirt she can grown used to. 

 

Lord Jaha, after years of not being able to step foot on castle grounds, was finally allowed to return. With a little help from Clarke, he had formulated a letter for the Queen, implying the urgency that they meet. He had run it to town and paid a street boy to get it to the castle as quickly as possible. The Queen had responded almost immediately with a rider, inviting him back.

Court in two days was bound to be an exciting affair.


	31. Chapter 31

Clarke had decided to dye all of her hair red, to keep from being recognized. The shortness of her locks was already an aid in maintaining the disguise. She wore a long green cloak-with the hood pulled up- that Jaha had let her borrow from Wells’ closet. Somehow it still smelled like him, and Clarke took comfort in knowing that he was still with her. Madi, too, wore a pair of Wells’ childhood trousers and shirt. The clothing was a bit big, but Madi didn’t seem to mind. Clarke had braided her hair back to hide the natural curls that usually ran rampant.

As they entered the castle, Clarke’s heart seemed to stop. It was just as she remembered. Her palms began to sweat. _Relax,_ she told herself. Two royal guards, who she didn’t know, stopped them.

“We need to see your invitation, before you’re allowed to enter,” one of them growled. Jaha rushed to pull out the letter Abby had sent. The crowd around them only seemed to be growing. Clarke never remembered this many people coming to court before. She picked Madi up in an attempt to keep her from being stepped on. 

“Here,” Jaha handed the letter over, “I am Lord Jaha. This is my new wife, Josie, and our daughter, Madi.” Clarke gave the men a small curtsy. The guards gave the letter and Clarke a harsh once-over, before ushering them in. Jaha found an empty space on a bench in the middle of the room. Clarke followed him as they skirted around the mass of people. 

Clarke took a deep breath, as she sat, “I’ve never seen so many people at court.”

“It’s the Queen’s birthday today,” Jaha whispered. Clarke had to blink a few times. It was her mother’s birthday. She was going to make a scene on her mother’s birthday. God help her. 

Minutes later, the crowd was asked to settle. People found seats where they could, but many stayed standing around the edges. Clarke’s eyes drifted, searching for a familiar face. She jolted when her eyes landed on two dark haired women sitting up and to the left. One turned to the other, laughing brightly. _Octavia_. The other made a rude noise and gestured wildly. _Raven._  

Clarke’s heart almost burst at the sight. She had missed them dearly. Part of her wanted to jump over the people around her and launch herself into their arms. Instead, Clarke pulled the hood higher over her head and clenched onto the bench to keep from moving.

Looking at the younger of the two women, Clarke’s thoughts began to drift to Bellamy. The last time she had seen her knight was when a knife was being slammed into his gut repeatedly. His blood was spraying everywhere and then he went still, lifeless.

The memory still plagued her dreams. Clarke could will herself to forget about her mother, but nothing she could ever do would help her forget Bellamy’s muffled screams.

Whispers traveled through the audience and Clarke craned her neck to see what was going on. At the front of the court, the Queen entered, flanked by four guards. Abby looked older, Clarke thought. Her hair was not quite as blonde and her face was more wrinkled. She smiled as she sat on the throne, though Clarke could tell that the smile was strained.

“Is that the Queen?” Madi whispered. 

Clarke looked down at her daughter, whose eyes were wide in awe, “Yes, Madi, that’s the Queen.”

“That’s your mom?” 

Clarke nodded and Madi grinned, turning her attention back to the front.

“Thank you all for being here today to celebrate this wonderful occasion with me-” Abby continued, but something else had caught Clarke’s attention.

Something about the guard to Abby’s right was eerily familiar. She peered around the man in front of her to get a better look. The guard was tall, and bulky, and he had a dark beard. Unlike the other guards, he was not alert. While the others scanned the crowd, looking for threats and danger, he simply stared straight forward. Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him, but she was too far away to get a good look.

The guard ran a hand through his hair, pushing the curls out of his face, and Clarke gasped. 

As if sensing it, his eyes snapped in her direction. Clarke ducked her head, hiding, and Jaha gave her a questioning look. Madi squeezed her hand in confusion, but Clarke kept her head lowered, shaking her head to tell her not to worry about it. After a moment, Clarke thought it was safe to raise her head again.

She did know that guard, in fact, she knew him pretty well. His brown curls were ones she was unlikely to forget. She saw them every time she looked at her daughter.

Bellamy had turned his eyes away from her and was back to looking forward.

 _Bellamy. Oh my god, Bellamy is alive._ Clarke wanted to cry in relief. She thought he was dead. She had told Madi he was dead.

 _Oh shit, Madi._  

Clarke turned her attention to the girl, who was still enthralled with what was going on at the front. Brown curls were already peeking out from her braid. What was she going to tell Madi now?

Abby was still speaking, “…but before the festivities begin, there is some business to attend to. An old friend of mine has contacted me, in hopes he might make a plea before the court. Lord Thelonious Jaha, are you present?”

Murmurs erupted in the court. The Jaha family was famous, no matter how the Queen felt about Thelonious. Giving one last glance to Clarke, Jaha stood. 

“I am here, Your Majesty,” he made his way into the aisle and towards the throne.

“Thelonious, it’s been too long,” Abby said, actually sounding genuine.

He bowed briefly and echoed, “Too long, indeed.”

“What brings you to court today?” It sounded polite enough, but Clarke could hear the threat. It had been a risk to invite Jaha after his attempts to reveal the secret Abby wanted hidden.

Clarke and Jaha had made it clear in the letter that he no longer wanted to tell the people about their poisoned water. Simply, that he was lonely and that he wished to be back in her good graces. The whole note was rather pathetic, but Jaha had agreed, and Abby had been convinced. 

“I come to ask forgiveness, Your Majesty, in front of you,” he gestured to the crowd, “and the kingdom.”

“Silence,” Abby raised a hand and the room went quite, “Lord Jaha, what exactly is it that you are asking forgiveness for?”

Clarke had known she would draw this out, make Jaha seem like a fool in front of everyone before forgiving him. She expected an apology for his absence in court lately, his absence from serving his Queen properly. It was evil and condescending, but not unexpected. In fact, Clarke and Jaha were counting on her patronizing behavior.

“Your Majesty, I wish you to forgive me for being traitorous. You see, I conspired against you when I thought you unfit to rule.” The crowd, again, began to murmur. Abby had to silence them once more. 

“You conspired against your Queen, Thelonious?”

 Clarke could tell that Abby was surprised by this admittance, but she hid it well. Her blank face was still perfectly in tact, though her hands were clenched on the arms of the throne, “Please tell the court the extent of your crimes.”

Jaha lowered his head in shame. God, he was good at this, Clarke thought. She was never a good actor and her lies were usually see-through.

“I have conspired to put another on the throne, Your Majesty. I have-”

Abby didn’t let him finish. “ _Who_?”

The room held its breath.

“Me.”

Clarke stood and the crowd gasped, all eyes turning her way. Slowly, she removed the hood.

“Her,” Jaha said with a smirk as he turned too.

“And who the hell are you?” Abby’s voice was shrill.

“I know my hair is red now, and a bit shorter,” Clarke began scooting her way into the aisle. She gave Madi one last glimpse. The girl’s eyes were wide, but she was staying put like she was told. Men and women turned their legs hurriedly to let Clarke pass- not bothering to hide their gaping mouths and stares.

Clarke made it to the aisle and her gaze met the Queen’s. “But honestly, mother, I can’t believe you don’t recognize your own daughter." 

A crash sounded at the front of the room. Abby’s mouth opened and shut, like a fish. Clarke made her way to the throne, shedding the cloak as she went.

“I, Princess Clarke of Ark Kingdom, have returned to claim the throne that my mother stole from my father, King Jake. The throne that rightfully belongs to _me_ ,” she made it feet from the Queen, shoulder to shoulder with Jaha, and stopped. The room was silent as they watched. Clarke kept her eyes forward, not daring to look at Bellamy or the other familiar people in the crowd.

“ _Clarke._ I can’t believe you’re alive,” Abby rose in an attempt to rush to Clarke, but the Princess took a step back and gave her mother a menacing glare.

“I know, quite amazing isn’t it? After you ordered your men to take me into the woods to be executed, I managed to get away. But you knew I was alive, that I had escaped. That’s why you sent a group of knights to track me down. I’ve had to live alone, afraid, outside of any town for the past six years to avoid being found by _your_ men _.”_

The room stiffened. Clarke was counting on a shock factor to help her and it seemed to be working.

“I did no such thing, Clarke,” Abby put a hand to her chest in horror, “Now please can we continue this conversation privately? God, you look so thin. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? _Please_.” Clarke practically rolled her eyes at her mother’s dramatics.

“You killed my father, King Jacob Griffin and you attempted to have me- your own daughter- killed. All because you wanted to keep a secret.” 

Her face instantly contorted to anger, her voice growing low, “Clarke.” It was a threat.

Clarke turned to face the crowd. “The reason Queen Abby plotted to murder her loved ones was because we knew a secret. A secret she wants to keep from you, the common people.” 

“Clarke!” Abby screamed, leaping down the throne steps. Clarke flinched, expecting the royal guard to seize her, throw her to the ground and silence her as they had done six years ago, but they made no such move. Abby rushed forward, but a knight stepped in her path, jolting her off balance.

 “I think we should let the Princess speak, Your Majesty.” Clarke recognized the raspy voice and wiry build of Sir Murphy. She met his eyes, sending him a silent thank you. Murphy just gave her a look that said, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

She turned back to the crowd, knowing her mother wouldn’t be deterred for long.

“The water of Ark Kingdom is poisoned. It has been for the past eight years. The waste from the castle and royal grounds has sunk into the earth and made it so that any who drink the water fall ill. Thousands have died because Queen Abby didn’t want you to know the truth!”

Someone pulled on Clarke from behind, stopping her. It didn’t matter though. Her words had produced the desired effect, if the eruption of shouts in the room were any indication. 

She was shoved roughly to the ground, her chin hitting the stone hard.

“Madi! Madi!” Clarke cried out desperately as the room exploded into chaos.

“Mom!” she heard distantly. 

A heavy weight settled on her back. “Stay down!” it grunted, but Clarke continued to struggle, trying to get to her daughter.

The weight suddenly lifted and Clarke flipped, expecting a spear to be flying her way.

But it wasn’t a spear- it was Bellamy, bloody sword in his hand and chest heaving with exertion. 

“Mom!” Madi cried from somewhere and Clarke scrambled to her feet. Madi threw herself into Clarke’s arms and she practically lost her footing at the force.

Over Madi’s head, there was a dead knight slumped on the ground. The man that been on top of her? Her eyes slid to Bellamy, who stood next to her, sword drawn and ready to fight anyone that came near. Bellamy had killed the man that had pinned her to the ground.

 

 

 

The minute Clarke had stepped into the aisle; Bellamy’s brain had short-circuited. The shield had slipped from his grip in astonishment, making a huge crashing sound. The Princess was dead. He had watched, as she was yanked across the stone floor of the castle, calling his name. Never to be seen again.

But then he watched as one of his fellow knights tackled Clarke to the ground and his sword had practically drawn itself. His job was to not leave the Queen’s side, yet here he was, protecting the Princess. The Princess that he though was dead.

“Mom!” a girl with dark brown hair cried. She collided with Clarke, shocking Bellamy. _Mom?_

In the brief moment of calm, he took the opportunity to look at Clarke, to make sure it was really her. The red hair was startling, nothing like the Princess he once knew. Her body, too, was different. She was thin, all of her curves gone. Her skin was darker, like she had spent way too much time in the sun and her cheeks were hollow. She looked like she’d been through hell, but the sharp blue eyes were a give away. It was Clarke.

The terrible memory of that day in the throne room popped into his head.

Afterwards, Bellamy had spent weeks unconscious; a result of losing too much blood from the stab wounds in his belly.

When he finally woke, Octavia was there by his bedside.

     

_“Bellamy. Oh my god, you’re awake,” she threw herself at him, burying her head in the crook of his neck._

_He groaned in pain and she pulled back instantly, “Sorry, sorry.”_

_She shoved a glass of water at him and he took small sips graciously. God, his stomach hurt. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to look under the blankets. How many times had he been stabbed? How was he even alive? The memory suddenly brought another thought to his mind._

_“Clarke?” he croaked. Octavia’s eyes dropped to her lap and she shook her head, wiping away tears._

_“I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” His heart sunk. “The Queen made the announcement today… She’s dead.”_

_She’s dead. Clarke was dead. He knew when she had been drug away that chances weren’t good. Clarke was a good fighter, but no one could overpower three armed knights. And she had been injured from the attack a week before. They had killed her. Queen Abby had killed her._

_Why hadn’t he told her he loved her sooner? Why hadn’t they gotten more time?_

_Bellamy fell unconscious again and didn’t wake for another four days._

_Abby was there when he woke the second time._

_"You killed her," he rasped._

_"I didn't want to."_

_Bellamy looked around for a weapon, something to defend himself with, but he could barely move. If she wanted to hold a pillow over his face he would be helpless to stop her._

_"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Sir Blake."_

_"Are you going to kill me too?"_

_Abby looked thoughtful, "No. You're a good knight, one of the best. I don't get rid of useful things."_

_Unless, its your daughter, he thought._

_"You'll be on my Queen's guard."_

_"No-"_

_She stopped him, "You'll be on my Queen's guard or I'll see to it that your sister has a terrible horse riding accident."_

_Octavia._

_Bellamy gulped. There really wasn't a choice, was there?_

 

 

 “Enough!” Clarke yelled over the shouting in the room. No one seemed to hear. She gritted her teeth and pushed her way to the first throne steps.

“ _Enough_!” she repeated, louder this time. The crowd quieted at the sight of Clarke above them.

 “Get down from there!” Abby yelled, her voice shrill.

“I belong on this throne.”

“I am the Queen!” Abby screeched. She was at the foot of the stairs, surrounded by three guards, attempting to push past them to get to Clarke.

Clarke had to speak fast if she wanted to keep her mother from interfering. “I have proof of my mother’s betrayal. I have proof she killed my father and tried to kill me and I refuse to let her sit on this throne any longer!” 

Marcus Kane came forward, his eyes pleading with Clarke to stop. He had been there. He knew the truth. 

“Clarke, this isn’t a matter for court.”

She turned an icy blue stare on him, “If I don’t do this in front of my people, they will never know the truth. If I leave, someone may try to kill me again before I get the chance to speak. We do this here, Kane.”

He inclined his head slightly, looking out of the corner of his eye at Abby who had gone silent. Something was stirring behind her gaze, something like a plan to get herself out of this.

“Lord Jaha!” Clarke called, “Please step forward.”

He emerged from the crowd. The rest of the people in the room had found their seats again or were standing silently, trying to follow what was happening.

“Lord Jaha, did you conspire with my mother to have my father murdered?”

Jaha gave Abby an apologetic look and she stiffened. This was Clarke’s evidence. Jaha was going to give Abby up and she was helpless to stop him.

“Yes,” he said and the crowd gasped.

Clarke pushed on, “Did you and my mother know that the ground water was poisoned?" 

“Yes." 

“Did you have my father killed to keep that secret?”

“Yes.” 

“Did you or my mother do anything to aid the sick or dying from the water? Did you warn them it was toxic?”

“No.” 

“Did my mother plot to have me killed, because she was afraid I would tell everyone of the poisoned water?”

“Yes.” 

“Lord Jaha, would you like to explain why you did these terrible things?”

Jaha clasped his hands in front of him, not looking at Abby. “Most of the time I was following Queen Abby’s orders. In some instances, the ideas were mine. We did not tell, because we did not want people of the Ark to revolt. We did not think that people would die.”

Clarke’s voice was shaking with anger now, “When you found out people were dying, why didn’t you _do_ anything?”

Jaha bowed his head, “It was too late. We had been lying for too long. Telling the people we were lying would have caused them to rebel.”

Clarke’s chest was heaving and everyone in the room could see her anger, feel it. She turned to the Queen.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

The guards around Abby had stepped aside, no longer protecting her. They were disturbed by the revelation as much as everyone else. Everyone in Ark knew someone who had died of sickness in the past years. It had spread far and wide. Children had become most affected. But no one even suspected the water or their own royal family. 

Abby looked around her, meeting the disgusted eyes of her subjects. She found no sympathy, no pity, only hate. Her eyes turned to Clarke. The daughter she had assumed was dead. 

Clarke had tears in her eyes, and it was that sight that made Abby break.

“I’m sorry! I am so sorry!”

Clarke watched her mother collapse to the ground and was instantly mad at herself for feeling a tinge of sympathy. Abby didn’t deserve forgiveness.

A small tug on her shirt had Clarke glancing down. Madi stood at her feet, looking lost. Clarke picked the young girl up swiftly, setting her on her hip. Abby noticed the child and her hysterics cut short.

“Clarke?” she warbled.

“This is Madi. My daughter. I was pregnant when you tried to have me killed. You tried to murder your daughter _and_ your granddaughter.”

Abby jerked back as if stung. The crowd, too, was startled.

“I didn’t know,” Abby whispered, horrified.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she took a deep breath, “Queen Abby, you are no longer the ruler of Ark Kingdom. You and those who worked with you will pay for the crimes committed.”

Abby began to cry again, but Clarke ignored her, turning to the knights, “Take her and Lord Jaha to the dungeons.”

The knights exchanged unsure looks. Would they follow Clarke’s order? Where did their allegiance lie? With the daring princess who had been presumed dead for six years or with the assertive queen who they had served for years? Sir Murphy moved first, yanking Abby up by the arm. The other knights followed his lead, their dilemma apparently solved, and assisted him in pulling the two people away.

Jaha went willingly, his face stoic, and he gave Clarke a nod as he passed. Jaha and Clarke knew that if their plan worked, this would be the outcome. He had told Clarke he deserved whatever punishment she decided.

Abby was begging them to forgive her, that she had made a mistake. In the end, she was shoved out the door screaming, “Clarke! Clarke! Please, Clarke!”

Clarke buried her nose in Madi’s hair, giving the frightened girl a kiss. She would never forget the sound of her mother begging for mercy and she only wished Madi had never had to hear it.

As soon as the commotion settled, everyone turned to Clarke. What now?

She seemed to realize the attention was all on her and lifted her chin from where it was resting on Madi’s temple. Clarke really hadn’t expected to get this far and now that she had, she had no idea what to do.

Clarke looked around, noting the empty throne behind her, but deciding against sitting in it. It didn’t feel right so soon. It was as wrong as the way her mother had taken over after King Jake was dead.

Bellamy was still beside her, but she couldn’t gather the courage to look at him. What was he thinking? Did he recognize Madi as his own?

An idea came to her.

“Is Sir Monty Green present?” There were a few murmurs until a small man came forward.

“Uh, hey Clarke,” Monty said, giving her a wave. Clarke smiled back. He looked older than she remembered, which made sense, but it was still odd to see.

“Hey, Monty. By any chance are you still interested in chemistry?”

His almond eyes lit up, “Yes, yes I am.”

Clarke nodded, “Good, I want you to go to the village of Polis and test their water. Polis is where people started dying first and I believe where the water is most toxic.”

“What do you want me to test it for?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry, I should’ve made myself more clear. I want you to find a cure, Sir Green.”

_“A cure?”_

“I know it is an impossible task to ask of you, but we need something to help the sick or even a way to detoxify the water. I will provide you with all resources and men you need, but I think you’re our best chance at fixing this.”

Monty couldn’t believe his ears, but in the back of his mind, he knew she was right. If anyone could do it, it was him. He would find a cure, for the kingdom and for his Queen.

“It would be my honor, Your Majesty,” Monty said, bowing. The gesture made Clarke stiffen. _Monty had just addressed her as the Queen._ Flustered, she nodded to the man as he retreated back into the crowd.

“Can anyone tell me who the Head of the Royal Army is?” Clarke called to the room. 

A knight cleared his throat, stepping forward from the wall, “That would be me, Your Majesty." 

Again, someone had called her that.

“Sir Miller?” Clarke blinked in surprise. 

He smiled and bowed. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you to send a group of knights to every village in Ark Kingdom. They are to escort nurses and doctors to the towns and provide any help the people may need. Those that are most ill, but able to travel, should be brought back to the castle for treatment.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty. Anything else?” Miller asked.

“No, I think that will be all for now.” He exited the throne room, on his way to begin the assignment with which Clarke had tasked him, but not before glancing at Bellamy. She didn’t watch to see Bellamy’s reaction. 

“I need everyone to begin preparing for the sick to arrive. We will set up blankets and cots in the ballroom. Any food and water you can spare will be appreciated. Those of you with medical experience will need to meet me here tomorrow around lunch, so we can begin preparing. If you want to help, but don’t know what to do, come see me tomorrow.” 

“What will you do with Queen Abby?” someone in the crowd shouted.

Clarke’s face hardened, “I will ensure the Queen pays for her crimes. Along with Lord Jaha and all the other people who conspired.” Her eyes slid to Kane, who was looking a bit sheepish, and then back to the crowd.

“When will you have the coronation?” another woman called.

Clarke almost rolled her eyes. People were the same everywhere she went- more worried about gossip and the pretty things in life than actual problems. 

“I won’t sit on the throne until Ark Kingdom is healthy and happy,” she paused, “You’re all dismissed.”

The crowd didn’t move at first, registering her words. Then, they all began filing out. Many people gave Clarke distrusting looks, others just curious ones. Some looked at her with awe. 

There were three bodies on the ground and Clarke ordered them to be respectfully taken care of. Four knights carried the dead out without having to be asked twice.

Ten minutes later, only a few people remained.

Most of the royal guard was still there, including Bellamy. Near the edge of the throne steps, Raven and Octavia stood, looking both shocked and nervous. Monty Green was seated silently and Madi was still holding tight to her shirt.

And then it finally sunk in. Clarke had usurped her mother. She was the leader of Ark Kingdom. She was in the castle she grew up in. Her daughter was here. And Bellamy was alive.


	32. Chapter 32

“ _Clarke_ ,” Raven choked out.

“Hey, Raven.”

And then Clarke was running down the steps with Madi bouncing on her hip and Octavia and Raven were running up them and the four women collided in a mess of hugs and tears.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Oh god, Clarke.”

“I missed you both so much.”

“ _Mom_?” Madi’s voice broke them out of their reunion.

Clarke looked down at Madi, whose hair was a mess after being smothered. She cleared her throat.

 “Right, uh, Raven and Octavia meet Madi.” Both women turned their eyes on the young girl. Clarke felt a sense of pride as Madi straightened her back and lifted her chin, refusing to hide from their scrutinizing looks.

“Madi, this is Raven,” she gestured to the pretty brunette.

“You’re the one who saved mom's life.”

The statement took everyone by surprise. Clarke had made it a point to tell Madi stories about her life before, but she hadn’t expected Madi to repeat them. And she hadn't exactly said that Raven saved her life. Raven had saved Clarke more than once and in more than one way, but it was hard to explain that to a child. After Wells’ death, Raven helped put Clarke back together. Raven had been there for her through her worst times.  

Raven’s eyes widened and Clarke felt her face begin to flush. 

“Yes, Madi, I saved your mom’s life a few times. She saved mine too, though.”

Raven’s gaze flicked over to Clarke, who was pointedly not making eye contact. Madi seemed to like that answer because she grinned. The young girl was undeniably beautiful.

“I’m Octavia,” the other girl stepped forward, “But you can call me O if you’d like.”

“O. Mommy told me you were pretty and fun… and strong!” She held up her arm to mimic a bicep flex, the way she had seen Clarke do. Octavia looked at Clarke, stunned, but the Princess was at a loss.

“I, uh, told her about you guys as a way to pass the time.”

“We can see that,” snorted Raven. After holding Madi for so long, Clarke’s arms were tired. She set the child down, which only seemed to fuel her curiosity, as she was now free to approach the two women herself.

Monty finally joined the group, giving Clarke a wide smile. She only just realized he wasn't wearing armor. Earlier she had been too lost in her own thoughts to notice. Was Monty still a knight? 

“Did you know my dad?” Madi asked, stepping up to Raven. Clarke froze.

 Again, Raven was at a loss for words. Her eyes flitted across everyone in the room, begging for help. 

A presence slid up behind Clarke and she looked to see that Bellamy had come down the stairs to hear their conversation. He peered down at Madi and Clarke panicked more. Did he know? How couldn’t he?

Raven was still floundering, “I, uh, I don’t know who your father is, Madi. I might’ve known him.” She shrugged, giving Clarke a weird look. Clearly, she was curious about Madi’s father too.

“Is she Finn’s?” a deep voice reverberated down Clarke’s spine. _Bellamy’s voice_. That was the first thing she had heard Bellamy say in _six years._

Clarke turned to see him looking at her now, with an expectant raised brow and hard eyes.

“Madi is not Finn’s.”

Raven and Octavia both let out an audible breath, but Bellamy remained unconvinced.

Clarke allowed herself a moment to look at the knight, really look at him, for the first time since she had returned. Bellamy was wider than she remembered, his body more matured. He had grown a beard, but freckles were still scattered across his nose. His brown eyes were the same river rock color, but they were more severe than she remembered. Clarke saw traces of the man she used to know, used to care for, but on top of all that was wariness, hardness she didn’t recognize. He was wearing armor, both physically and emotionally.

Clarke supposed she was doing the same. It had been so long, she wasn't sure she knew how to be _Clarke_ anymore. Or if she would ever go back. Had too much had changed?

“Blake, you’re an idiot!” a male voice called out from behind the throne. John Murphy emerged, wearing a shit-eating grin. His hair was mused, and Clarke noticed the blood dripping off his sword. Who had he sliced in all the chaos? 

In a smooth motion, Murphy shouldered Clarke and Bellamy out of the way and scooped Madi up, placing her on his hip. Clarke reached out to stop him, but paused when she saw Madi’s reaction. The girl looked startled at being picked up, but not scared of the man now holding her.

“Who are you?” Madi crossed her arms, glaring. Clarke wanted to laugh at the sight of a five-year-old giving Murphy attitude.

“I’m Murphy,” he glared right back. Madi eyes widened in recognition.

“Mom said that you were angry and mean.”

That made him laugh, shaking her a bit, “She got that right.”

“She also said that you and her were like two peas in a … in a…” the girl struggled to remember the phrase.

“Two peas in a pod,” Octavia supplied. Murphy’s laughter cut short and he looked to Clarke, whose face gave nothing away. If anything, she looked like she wanted to stab something. 

He turned back to Madi, now completely serious. “Your mom and I, we had a complicated relationship. I am angry most of the time, but so is she. Clarke and I … we are very similar people, Madi. We understand each other.”

Everyone had seen the weird relationship Murphy and Clarke developed. What started as animosity, ended in a confusing mix of adoration and witty banter. Murphy seemed to _like_ Clarke, and Murphy didn’t like anyone. They had all witnessed the perplexing relationship, but Murphy’s confession was still unexpected.

“But your dad and I, we fight like crazy,” Murphy continued with a sly grin.

“You knew my dad?”

“Murphy,” Clarke growled in warning.

“What, Princess?” his evil smile turned on her, “I knew who’s kid she was the minute I saw her.”

Madi scrunched her nose in confusion and Clarke tried to take her back. Murphy turned, blocking Clarke’s reach and playfully musing Madi’s hair up as he moved. There was a beat where Raven, Monty and Octavia stared at the young girl, puzzled. Bellamy's brows furrowed.  

“Oh. My. God,” Raven suddenly screeched, “I knew it!”

Clarke’s head dropped into her hands and she groaned. _Shit._

“What?” Octavia said, lost. “Raven, what’s going on?”

“I thought she looked like Finn, because of the dark hair, but – Oh my god! Clarke, I knew it!” Raven was practically thrusting her arms up in victory.

Murphy and Raven gave each other a huge high five.

Clarke watched as Octavia processed. She watched Raven do a happy dance, then she looked at Madi and finally at Clarke. Her eyes were searching, completely confused. Clarke sighed and then let her gaze drift to Bellamy. Bellamy, who had come up beside her and was standing stiff as a statue. Rubbing his thick head of hair in confusion, the same way Murphy had just done to Madi.

Octavia’s mouth dropped open into an O and she looked frantically between the father and daughter. “Holy shit!”

“Hey!” Murphy growled, covering Madi’s ears, “There are children present.”

“I’m sorry! But oh my god!” Octavia slapped her hands onto her cheeks, utterly astonished. 

Raven snatched Madi from Murphy, tickling the young girl as she swung her around. Madi giggled with joy. In awe, Octavia reached out to run a hand through Madi’s dark curls. They had come almost completely loose from the braid. 

“What am I missing?” Bellamy asked gruff.

A sharp laugh escaped Clarke, but she quickly covered it. Bellamy turned his glare on her. He searched her face, looking for answers. How could he not see what was right in front of him?

“Blake, you’re a moron, Madi is -,” Raven elbowed Murphy in the gut sharply, cutting him off. The adults in the room quieted.

Clarke watched Bellamy blink a few times, and then his eyes slid to the girl, who was now laughing happily in Octavia’s arms. Clarke saw the second he realized what Murphy was trying to say.

_Madi is.... yours._

He jerked his gaze back to Clarke. She was standing nervously, a lip between her teeth.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was high with disbelief.

“Madi,” Clarke said, her eyes not leaving Bellamy’s, “Tell them what we practiced, baby.”

Madi sobered, “I am Madi, granddaughter to King Jacob Griffin and Queen Abigail Griffin. My mother is Princess-“

“Queen,” Murphy cut in, “Your mom is a Queen now.” Madi smiled, but Clarke’s eyes were still glued on Bellamy. She didn’t want to miss his reaction. She wanted to be here, with him, in this moment when he finally realized they had a child together.

“ _Queen_ Clarke Griffin,” Madi corrected, “I grew up in the wild, but one day we will return home, to my mother’s castle. And when we do they will call me Madeline, _Princess_ Madeline Blake-Griffin! Was that right, mommy?” Madi asked. 

“Yes, Madi, you did it perfectly.”

Bellamy looked overwhelmed.

He looked like he was going to pass out. Clarke reached out, her hand landing on his cheek and feeling the unfamiliar scratch of a beard. He flinched at the touch, but raised his hand too, resting it on hers. It was shaking.

She watched as a single tear traveled down his face and quickly wiped it away with her thumb. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked, worried.

“Can I hold her?”

Clarke smiled, her vision blurring. She took her hand back and Bellamy’s fell to his side.

“Of course."

  
Trying to hide her own tears, Octavia handed Madi over to Clarke. Raven and Monty were beaming, and Murphy stood with his arms crossed, looking smug.

Madi was lost. “Mom?”

“Madi, this is Bellamy,” Clarke gestured to the man. Bellamy rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and gave the girl a little wave. It was adorable how frazzled he was. 

“Your knight?!” Madi’s eyes sparkled. Clarke nodded happily, and handed the child over. Bellamy gulped and then reached out, looking anxious. He settled Madi on his hip and had to do a little hop to readjust her into a more comfortable place. 

“Hi, Madi,” he murmured. Madi beamed up at him with missing teeth and bright blue eyes. Bellamy’s eyes widened. He was a goner. 

“Mommy said you were her best friend.” Clarke blushed, wanting to crawl into a hole.

 Bellamy didn’t miss a beat, “Your mommy’s right. She is my best friend.”

Tears escaped for real then. Bellamy had said is _._ She _is_ my best friend _._ Not was.

Bellamy glanced over Madi’s head at the others. Everyone looked so happy. They were happy for _him_ , he realized. He was a father. He and Clarke had a daughter. 

“Bellamy?” Madi whispered.

 “Yes?” he answered, his attention fully on her.

“I’m hungryyy.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting her to say, but it wasn’t that. Kids were like that. Octavia had been the same way as a child. Always blurting out the most random things and asking questions.

He met Clarke’s eyes and raised a brow, asking if it was okay. She grinned, “I’m sure there’s food in the kitchens. Lead the way.”

“Alright, lets go get something to eat.”

And so, they went in search of dinner. Bellamy held Madi, cracking jokes the whole way just to hear her laugh. Clarke followed close behind, lost in watching them interact. Raven, Octavia, Murphy and Monty accompanied them, not daring to say anything that would ruin this moment for their friends.


	33. Chapter 33

The kitchen staff was more than happy to pour them bowls of stew and cut a loaf of bread. Clarke sat across the table from Bellamy and Raven, Madi squished between them. Monty and Octavia were on her sides and Murphy stood near the door, still on guard duty. The royal guard was hers now and Clarke didn’t know if she would ever get used to the idea of having an entire army at her beck and call.

Madi was stuffing her face, talking to Bellamy and Raven between bites. The two took turns asking questions and Madi delighted to entertain them.

Clarke turned to Monty, “Do you know where Harper is?”

He turned with his cheeks full of food, “Oh my god, I forgot!” The words were hard to make out.

“She’s at home,” Monty said swallowing the food, “on bed rest.”

Clarke furrowed her brow, not understanding what he meant about bed rest. Then it dawned on her.

“Harper’s pregnant?!” 

Monty grinned, “With our second. We have a son, Jordan. He’s a little younger than Madi.”

Clarke couldn’t believe it. “Congratulations, Monty!” she pulled him in for a hug. Her friends had a baby. And they were about to have another! 

He returned the hug with vigor. “She will be so happy when I tell her you’re alive. She’s been so cranky having to stay in bed these past few weeks.”

Clarke pulled back still smiling, “Hey at least she won’t have to sever the umbilical cord with a rock.”

It was meant to be funny, but Monty’s face dropped and Clarke regretted saying it immediately. Madi continued chatting, oblivious, soup covering her face. Raven and Octavia had both stopped chewing and were looking at Clarke with wide eyes. Bellamy’s jaw was clenched and his hands were fisted on the table. 

Clarke cleared her throat. “Madi why don’t you tell them about the first time you went swimming?”

The young girl nodded and started in on another story. She waved her hands around dramatically and the bread in her tiny grasp sent crumbs everywhere. Bellamy turned his head to listen to the story, but Clarke could tell his attention was still on her. Octavia, Raven and Monty continued eating in uneasy silence.

 

 

Bellamy had known Clarke survived in the forest for six years. She had said so her self. He just hadn’t thought through what that exactly meant. Clarke had given birth outdoors, without medicine and without help. The idea of her alone, scared and in pain made him want to explode. He could have looked for her, he could’ve tried harder to save her, he could’ve… Bellamy didn’t know what he could’ve done to protect the Princess, but he did know that she had suffered more than he could ever have imagined.

All night, she looked so small and uncertain. She was tense around them, her shoulders constantly tight and eyes assessing. Like a trapped animal… and Madi was her cub. He could see the love Clarke had for Madi and knew she would do anything for her, anything. 

He tuned back in to the tale Madi was narrating.

“- and then one time we had to eat _bugs_. They were huge and they had wings, but it didn’t matter, mama and I were soooo hungry. We tried to find food in the village one time, but then these men with swords came up to mama and she got really scared. She put me in this bucket with mud and icky stuff and told me to be quiet. I heard her screaming and the men were yelling too. I stayed quiet like she said and eventually she came back. Her hair was gone right here,” Madi patted the side of her head in explanation, “and then, that night she let me cut her hair really short! She looked like a boy,” Madi laughed.

Clarke was motionless, staring into her bowl of soup. Bellamy’s gaze traveled around the table. Was everyone listening to this? Raven met eyes with him over the child’s crazy curls, and shook her head, not wanting to believe it. Octavia had a hand over her mouth in shock. Monty was glancing quickly between Madi and Clarke’s downturned head. Even Murphy shifted uncomfortably.

Madi continued on in blissful ignorance, “… even taught me how to stich a cut. Mama walked into a bear trap once and her foot was _super_ bloody. She told me how to do everything and I put water on it and stitched it up with a hairpin-”

A scraping sound interrupted the story. Clarke stood, her hands grasping at the edge of the table and face emotionless.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and looked to Raven, “Can you watch her?”

“Of course, we’ve got her,” Raven threw an arm over Madi’s shoulder, but Clarke didn’t wait to hear the answer, just sprinted from the room. Bellamy stood to follow, but Octavia gave him a look that said ‘don’t’.

 “Just give her a moment,” Octavia said, “She’s been on her own for so long she probably just needs time to readjust.”

Bellamy wanted to follow, to make sure she was okay. The more Madi talked the more happiness faded from Clarke's features. The child thought she was telling fun stories to her new friends, but her tales had only made bile rise in his throat. 

 

 

Clarke dashed through the kitchen, trying to steady her breathing. She had to get away.

It was so terrifying when the royal guards had spotted her that day in town. She had screamed and fought when they grabbed her. They ripped a chunk of hair out, and some of the skin with it. She’d managed to knife the man who was dragging her in the calf and run away. Madi was still in the trash barrel when she got back and they escaped into the forest.

Clarke was bent over the kitchen sink, trying not to hyperventilate. There were so many close calls. So many times she wasn’t sure if she and Madi would die of starvation or dehydration first. A few buckets of water were on the counter next to her, and without thinking Clarke dumped one over her head. 

The cold washed away the panic. Pink water dripped from her head and ran down the drain. Grabbing another bucket, Clarke poured it over her head again. This time, she did it slowly, and took a moment to scrub at her head in between pours. She scrubbed until the water was clear. Grabbing a nearby cloth, she patted her face and neck dry. The towel smelled of stale bread and she tossed it, deciding to let her hair air-dry. 

Part of her wished someone had followed her out of the room. But that was selfish. They didn’t need to take care of her. The other part of her was glad no one had seen her like this- shaking and nearly hysteric.

Clarke walked back to the table. Bellamy’s head popped up as she walked in and his eyes widened. She was blonde again. The others turned to look as well.

Clarke's head was soaking wet and so was the top of her shirt. It looked like she had dunked herself in a bath up to the shoulders. 

Madi was still talking, although slower than she had been earlier. Clarke recognized the signs of tiredness.

“I think its time for bed, Madi.”

She pouted, her blue eyes big and lip sticking out. Apparently, Madi didn’t want to go to bed. Clarke gave her a ‘don’t test me’ look and Madi groaned, sliding out of her seat. It was so motherly. So unlike anything Clarke had ever done before.  

Bellamy watched her, searching for other changes. 

What was throwing him most was the hair. The blonde made her seem more like the Princess he used to know. But, with her original hair back, he realized just how different everything else about her looked. All her softness was gone, replaced by bones and a thinned face. 

“I think we ought to go, too. It’s getting late,” Raven said, pilling up the dishes. Octavia nodded.  Madi came around the table and Clarke picked her up. The child leaned down on Clarke’s shoulder almost instantly.

“Goodnight, Clarke. I’m headed to Polis first thing in the morning,” Monty said, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm so glad you're alive."  

“I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Goodnight, Madi,” he said and the young girl smiled, though her eyes were starting to close.

Raven gave Clarke a kiss on the cheek, and Madi one on her head. The look in her eye said that they would talk later, when things were less crazy. For now, it was just good to see one another alive and well. 

“Goodnight,” Octavia called as she followed Raven out of the room. “Goodnight, Bell,” she added, waving.

Bellamy shifted nervously, unsure of what to do. Should he leave? Should he escort her to her old room and stand guard? What did Clarke want him to do?

“Is anyone using my old room?” Clarke asked him. 

 “Not that I know of,” he shook his head and stood.

“You could stay in the Queen’s quarters, now,” Murphy said from his post at the doorway. Clarke outwardly cringed at the idea.

“God, no. I’ll take my old room.”

Bellamy trailed behind her, still not sure what he was doing. He hadn’t been alone with Clarke in six years. Now here she was in front of him, carrying their child.

Murphy and the other knights followed behind them silently. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Clarke sighed, shifting Madi to her other hip.

“I’ll take her, Clarke.”

“What?” the blonde turned, a few steps ahead of him already. Beads of water from her wet hair landed on his cheeks.

He held his hands out, “I’ve got her.” 

Clarke blinked, her eyes starting to swim uncontrollably. He shook his hands a little, expectantly, and she handed Madi over without a word. The young girl was fast asleep by now and Bellamy held her close. 

“Thank you.” This was so foreign to her, having help. 

“Of course.”

When they reached the top floor, Bellamy wasn’t even breathing hard.

Clarke slid past him to open the door to her old room, but stopped short as she entered. It was exactly the same. The bed was made and all the furniture was in the same place. It was like she had never left. Though, Clarke was willing to bet her mother had thrown out all of her possessions.

Bellamy cleared his throat.

“Oh. You can just put her on the bed,” Clarke gestured and he nodded, setting the girl in middle of the bed gently. Clarke came around the side to take Madi’s shoes off and tuck her in. The girl snuggled into the blankets as soon as they were to her chin. Clarke gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped back. When she looked up, Bellamy was watching.

Gulping, she turned her eyes back to Madi. She was adorable- her brown curls spread out on the pillow wildly and mouth slightly open.

A memory of Bellamy sleeping the night after he’d been stabbed popped into Clarke’s mind. The image was so similar to the one she saw before her now.

“Clarke,” his voice was a whisper.

She looked up, suddenly feeling very small under his intense gaze. 

“Let’s talk outside,” she said, giving Madi one last kiss.

The door closed and Clarke turned. Bellamy was standing behind her in the hallway, eyes full of something she couldn't describe.

For moments, they said nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re alive.” 

“I thought I saw you die.”

“I almost did.”

“Me too.”

Another pause. Clarke had never imagined this moment. She didn't know how it was supposed to go. She'd never thought Madi would get to meet her father. 

"I'm so sorry, Clarke."

"Why are you sorry?"

"You were alone-"

"That wasn't your fault, Bellamy," she said harshly. "I never blamed you and you shouldn't blame yourself."

It didn't make him feel better, but he nodded anyways. 

"Madi is great."

Clarke smiled, "She is, isn't she?"

"I can already tell she's going to be just as stubborn as her mother."

"I think you mean _just as stubborn as her father_."

He chuckled, but his mind was reeling. Would he ever get used to hearing that he was a father? Clarke looked back towards the closed door and Bellamy followed her gaze. 

"Does she know who I am?"

 "I told her stories," she paused, meeting his gaze, "I told her you were dead."

"But she knew my name..."

"The Bellamy in my stories was always the brave knight who saved my life. Her father... he was my best friend. He taught me how to fight and loved to argue. He was hard headed and kind. He fell in love with me against his better judgement. I always intended to tell her they were the same person. But it became so much easier to talk about Sir Blake than it was to talk about how much I loved her father." 

It was how Clarke had coped with losing him- she separated Bellamy into two different people. One she could tell funny stories about and the other she had a hard time mentioning. 

"I understand and I, I understand if you don't ever want to tell her."

"I will tell her, Bellamy, I promise. Its just, Madi and I have been through so much and I want to wait until I know-"

She stopped herself from continuing and Bellamy straightened, jaw clenching. 

"I want to be Madi's father, Clarke," he sounded almost offended. "I'm not going to just abandon my daughter like O's dad did. Or mine."  

"I never thought you would. I just, she's a lot, and I wasn't sure you wanted us."

The unspoken words were clear. Clarke knew Bellamy would want Madi. She wasn't sure he would want  _her_.

"I'm here, Princess. I'm not going anywhere."

The old nickname brought tears to her eyes, but Clarke wiped them away. Crying once in one night was enough.

Tentatively, he reached for her. As if she had been waiting for it, Clarke sprung forward, burying herself in his chest. 

"God, I missed you," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. Bellamy tucked his nose into the wet strands of her hair, trying to ignore how thin she felt in his arms. 

"I missed you too, Clarke." 

 

 

They said their goodbyes that night hesitantly. Neither really wanted to leave the other. Bellamy had just gotten her back and Clarke finally felt like she wasn't alone. But, he couldn't stay in her room. Not with Madi there. And he wasn't even sure Clarke would want him to. Six years had passed. Things had changed, they had changed. Clarke closed the door with a promise that she would see him in the morning, and Bellamy held onto that his entire walk home. 


	34. Chapter 34

The next day was hectic. Clarke managed to gather thirty people with limited medical experience and teach them the basics. She assigned boys to bring in cots and women to fill water pitchers, prepare beds, and food. The sick would start arriving within the week and Clarke wanted to be ready.

 

Then, there was the issue of her mother. Clarke visited her and Jaha in the dungeon that morning. Abby yelled and cursed and screamed, so Clarke left. She came back later in the afternoon hoping Abby would be a bit more civil.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Clarke had thought long and hard about what she was going to do to her mother. Did she deserve to be executed? Probably. Could Clarke go through with it? She didn’t know.

“Not yet. For now, you’re going to help me.”

Abby’s bloodshot eyes turned to her, looking up from where she was positioned on the floor.

“Help you?”

“I’ve ordered the sick to be brought to the castle for treatment. You’re the reason they are sick, so you get to help me take care of them.”

“What?”

“This is your punishment, mother. During the day you will feed, bathe, and nurse the sick. At night, you sleep here. I want you to see what you’ve caused. I want the people to see you and know that you are the reason their loved ones are sick. If any of them die, I want you to see that too.”

Abby gulped. Clarke gave her one last long look, before turning on her heel and striding back up the stairs.

 

 

 

Clarke was in the ballroom, Madi on her hip, yelling at a group of boys to move the cots away from the door so people could enter more easily.

A tall, dark man pushed his way through the door, and it immediately hit the cot. Clarke grumbled. If she wanted something done right, she guessed she’d have to do it herself.

She was striding forward, ready to kick the cot out of the way when she noticed the man who had just come in.

He was standing still, staring at her with his mouth wide open.

“Clarke?”

“Lincoln?”

She barreled forward, squishing Madi in between them.

“Jesus, Clarke. I cant’ believe this. Octavia told me, but I-” he pushed her shoulders back, looking her up and down, “I just had to see for myself.”

Clarke smiled, a real genuine smile. Madi squirmed in her arms.

“Who is this little one?”

“Madi, say hi to Lincoln.”

“Hi, Lincoln” she waved her small hand and Clarke set her down.

Lincoln watched the girl jump on the nearest cot and kick her feet in the air playfully. His eyes swung back to Clarke.

“Is it true? Is she-”

“Yes,” Clarke said, “But she doesn’t know. I thought he was dead,” Clarke whispered and Lincoln nodded in understanding.

“Did you and Octavia ever get married?” Clarke changed the subject. 

Lincoln grinned, big and toothy. “About two years ago. We were going to do it sooner, but Bellamy didn’t approve and…” he paused, his eyes sad, “We weren’t ready to do it so soon after everything that happened.”

“Well I’m happy that you did,” Clarke cleared her throat. “I always told you it would be impossible to get Bellamy’s approval.”

“We literally had to duel.”

“ _What_?!”

Lincoln nodded, but he was smiling, “Octavia and him were fighting constantly and he would barely talk to me. So one day, I just went up to him and challenged him.”

Clarke’s eyes were wide. “You beat Bellamy in a duel?”

“Hell no,” Lincoln said, “He kicked my ass, but apparently he was impressed that I would risk my life to marry his sister, so he finally agreed.”

Clarke laughed. She was right before, men were idiots.

 

 

 

Raven meandered into the castle around dinner time. Clarke was at the big table, writing something down furiously. Madi was across from her eating and chatting.

“Hey, Clarke.”

“Hey, do you want something to eat?”

 “No thanks.” Raven sat down, glancing around. “Where’s Bellamy?”

“He’s not a royal guard anymore.”

“What?” Raven yelped, “What do you mean?”

“You know he hates it. It’s not what he’s good at. I put him in charge of the training grounds again.” 

“When did you do that?”

“I told him when he came by this morning.”

“Clarke,” Raven admonished.

“What?” she looked up from her paper, confused.

“You sent Bellamy away.”

Clarke had a crease in her brow. “No I didn’t, I gave him new job. Its what he’s always wanted anyway.”

Raven looked at her for a moment, but Clarke seemed to honestly think that was the truth. “Alright, Griffin. So… talk to me.”

Clarke leaned back in her chair. “What do you want to know?” 

“Everything.”

“We lived on the run. It was hard. There’s not much to tell.”

Besides the fact that she and Madi spent a month in Mount Weather, she had killed hundreds of people, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had slept without nightmares.

“What about you?” Clarke asked.

She was avoiding talking about the past six years, which was fine. Raven didn’t press. Clarke would talk about it when she was ready.

“Sinclair gave me the shop, so I’ve been pretty busy.”

“That’s great, Raven. I’m happy for you.” 

“Jasper died.”

Raven meant to say it a less blunt way, but the statement just sort of flew out of her.

“What?” Clarke gasped. The goofy knight had been absent; she'd just assumed he was working.

“He got married to this girl, Maya, and they moved to a little village outside of town.” Clarke’s stomach dropped, anticipating what Raven was about to say next. 

“Maya got sick.” 

Tears pricked in Clarke’s eyes. The water.

 “Jasper couldn’t handle it. He died soon after she was gone. Monty took it really hard. He gave up his knighthood and moved in with Harper.”

They sat in silence, mourning the loss of their friend. Eventually, Raven cleared her throat and Clarke did the same.

“I met someone…”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke raised a brow, thankful for the change in topic.

“Yeah, his name is Shaw. He works at the other blacksmithing shop in town. He came in one day demanding to know who had forged Sir Morgan’s new armor and why it was so flexible. Imagine his surprise when he found out it was a girl who’d managed to create a new metal blend that was just as strong but not as stiff.”

Clarke laughed, “So it was love at first sight.”

 “It was love at first fight,” Raven blushed.

They spent some more time catching up, enjoying each other’s company. It was almost like the past six years had never happened.

“Mom, I’m tired,” Madi complained and Clarke gave Raven a sympathetic look.

“Don’t worry about it. Go,” Raven said, standing, “Goodnight Madi.”

“Goodnight, Ray Ray,” Madi chirped. Raven raised her eyebrows at the nickname, but didn’t correct her. She kind of liked it. 

Clarke was taking Madi’s hand, guiding her out the opposite door.

“Hey, Clarke!”

“Yeah?”

“I know there’s a lot you’re not telling us. But when you’re ready, I’m here.”

A shadow passed over Clarke’s face. She looked down at Madi and back to Raven.

“Goodnight, Raven,” she said softy and continued away.

And that was that.

 

 

 

Clarke couldn’t sleep. The bed was big enough to fit her and Madi, but it was just too fucking comfortable. She tossed and turned, got up to open the window, counted sheep, but nothing brought her rest. Madi didn’t seem to have a problem.

Eventually, Clarke flung herself out of bed, too frustrated to even lie there anymore. If she continued her fidgeting, Madi was bound to wake up anyways. 

“Clarke?” Murphy jolted when she opened the door.

“I can’t sleep.” He looked her up and down, noting the nightgown she was wearing and her rumpled hair. “I’m going to take a walk.”

“Woah,” Muprhy put his hand out, “You’re not going anywhere without an escort and I don’t really think you should walk around in that…”

“Fine,” Clarke huffed, turning back into the room to change.

She emerged wearing a simple pair of trousers and shirt and Murphy raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Lets go.”

“Dax,” Murphy snapped and the other knight straightened, “you’re in charge here. Nobody in, unless it’s the Queen.”

“If Madi wakes up and I’m not back, you can take her to breakfast or anywhere else in the castle she’d like to go. Just not the dungeon.”

The knight nodded, taking his position in front of the door.

“So,” Murphy drawled, “where are we going?”

They ended up at the training grounds.

Clarke walked around in the dark, taking it in. Not much had changed. There was some new equipment and it looked like they had made a larger training circle.

“What are we doing here, Clarke?”

“What’s it look like we’re doing?” She tossed him a wooden sword and he caught it easily.

“I don’t think-”

“Shut up, Murphy,” she said, twisting the sword around a bit. It had been so long since she’d held a sword. But she was too anxious to sleep and her body needed to _move._

Murphy sighed.

“Alright, you asked for it, Griffin.”

They started slow. Clarke wasn’t near as strong as she used to be and her shoulders started burning early on. The sword felt heavy, but she was determined and Murphy sensed that she needed it to be a little more aggressive. He started swinging a little faster and making her work harder. Clarke grunted, struggling to block. He hit her with a particularly nasty swing to ribs and she stumbled back in pain.

“Shit! I’m sorry, are you okay?” 

Taking a breath, she rubbed her ribs. The sun was starting to rise. They’d been here for hours. She hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s fine, Murphy. It’s been years since I trained. I knew I was going to be a little sloppy.” 

“We’d better get back.” 

Clarke nodded, putting both of their swords back in their rightful place.

“Want to jog?”

Murphy looked Clarke up and down. They’d just dueled for hours and now she wanted to jog? Maybe she was trying to exhaust herself into sleeping.

“Sure,” he said warily and she took off, leaving him to follow.

 

 

 

 

That afternoon Clarke took Madi back to the training grounds. They found Bellamy in the dirt circle, shirtless and sweaty as he addressed a group of men. Not men, boys. They were young boys wearing dirty, ripped, clothing and breathing hard. This must be the new batch of trainees.

Bellamy faltered when he saw them, but recovered, ordering the boys to go get some food and water and be back in an hour. They trudged away, many of them sore and tired, but happy to get a break.

When they saw Clarke standing nearby, some of them straightened and elbowed each other.

“Your Majesty,” they mumbled, bowing their dirty chins.

“Good work, gentlemen,” Clarke smiled and some of the boys flushed.

“Hey,” Bellamy said, jogging up, and glaring at the boys that were staring at Clarke. One look from the scary knight and the boys scampered away. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Clarke said, “Madi wanted a tour of the castle grounds.”

Bellamy crouched down. “Well, Madi, you’ve come to the best place in the _whole_ kingdom.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. This is where men become knights. They learn to use a sword, and ride a horse, and protect people like you and your mom.”

Clarke’s heart clenched at the way he was talking to her, leaning down so that they were at eye level.

“Just men?” Madi asked.

Bellamy blinked, caught off guard, and in that moment Clarke had never been more proud.

“Uh,” he looked to Clarke for help, but she just raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms- happy to let him flounder. “My sister wanted to be a knight when she was younger.”

“Is she a knight now?”

“No, she is in charge of the stables and all the horses.”

“Why not?”

Bellamy felt like he was on trial. 

“Girls aren’t allowed to be knights, Madi. I don’t know why, its just the way it is.”

Well, she didn’t like that answer. “Mom? Now that you’re the Queen can you let girls be knights?”

The question threw Clarke for a loop. Could she do that? She _was_ the Queen now... 

“Uh.” Bellamy gave her the same smart look she had given him. “I will try, Madi.”

“Good.”

An uncontrollable smile spread across his face. Madi was going to be a handful- that was for sure- but she was already smart and strong. He only had Clarke to thank.

Bellamy showed them around the training grounds, letting Madi hold a shield and a sword. Clarke watched as he lifted her onto one of the practice saddles and had her hold the reins and get used to the feel. 

“Thank you,” Clarke said and Bellamy turned, wide eyed. “She’s been getting so bored cooped up in the castle. We aren’t used to being indoors.”

“She can hang out here anytime.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Clarke, of course. I’d love to have her. She can watch the guys train and yell at them for me. Isn’t that right, Madi?”

“Yes! Mom, please? Can I stay with Bellamy tomorrow?” Madi butchered the pronunciation of his name, but it only made him chuckle. Clarke was looking between the two, thinking. Their eyes were wide in the same identical pleading face. 

“Sure, you can hang out here tomorrow, but you have to stay out of the way. Bellamy has an important job and you can’t be bothering him all the time.”

“She’ll be fine, Clarke,” Bellamy said at the same time Madi said, “I promise.”

  

 

The next day Clarke walked Madi to the training grounds in the morning. Bellamy was waiting and he smiled when he saw them coming over the hill.

“If she gets to be too much, just send someone and I’ll come get her.”

Bellamy squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll be fine, Clarke.”

“Don’t let her near any of the pointy objects." 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but then he saw the worried look on her face. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her, Clarke. I promise. She’s safe with me.” 

Clarke searched his eyes, trying not to cry. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spent more than a few hours away from her daughter. But if she trusted anyone to take care of Madi, it was Bellamy.

“Okay,” she relented, “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“Bye, mom!” Madi called, running up to hug her knees. Clarke patted her back once, then left to walk back to the castle. At the top of the hill, she turned around, giving them one last look. Madi was on Bellamy’s shoulders, gripping his hair tight and giggling. He was smiling too, holding onto her knees as he walked around, prepping for the day. Her heart stuttered.

But Clarke couldn’t watch the sight forever. The sick were arriving today.


	35. Chapter 35

The ballroom was cold that night as Clarke sat in a chair, feet propped up, carving away at a small stick she had found outside. The wood wasn’t really making the shape she wanted, but Clarke didn’t care, it just felt good to have a knife in her hand. She listened for cries of help, ready to jump up and assist whoever needed it at a moments notice, but almost everyone was sleeping soundly. Other women were already helping those that weren’t. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, casting a few beams in through the stain glassed windows.

She sighed, leaning her head back. Maybe it would be a good idea to get some sleep. But of course, luck wasn’t on her side and the door to the ballroom opened, a group of knights entering. Their armor clanged around, and Clarke wanted to shush them, but they were too far away and the sick were too ill to notice.

They made their way through the rows and rows of beds, speaking softly. Clarke heard a young boy begin to cough violently and jumped up to help. His coughing subsided when she gave him water and she returned to her previous position, knife in hand and feet propped. The knights were just walking through the ballroom on their way to their quarters it seemed. Clarke knew the route was a shortcut many of them took, though less and less did now that the ballroom was filled with dying people. 

They passed by her without a head nods. One knight in the back of the group stopped short when he saw Clarke and she looked up to see he wasn’t a knight at all, he was a Grounder. 

“Clarke?” he said incredulously. She twirled the knife in her hand, sticking it into the arm of her chair with a smooth motion and squinted. The man had long hair, piercing green eyes, a broad nose and tribal tattoos across his cheekbones.

“Roan?”

The other knights kept walking, but two men hung back. They were Grounders too, she realized. Dressed in traditional Grounder garb and sporting tattoos of their own. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he took a step closer, looking her up and down. It had been at least two years since they had seen each other. Clarke’s hair had grown a few inches, and it was no longer red, but blonde and healthy. She looked like a woman now, not a sickly teenage boy. Her clothes were actually clean and for once she wasn’t covered in blood. Without the grime covering her clothes and face, it was a wonder Roan had recognized her at all.

“I’m helping with the sick,” she gestured to the room. Roan looked around at the hundreds of beds, nodding.

“I remember you saying you were a healer.”

She nodded, yanking the knife out of the chair and returning to her carving.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, keeping her head down. Clarke had no idea what Roan and the Grounders could possibly be doing in the castle. It made her nervous. She hadn’t invited them. Maybe her mother had and they came without knowing Queen Abby had been overthrown. Best act dumb, until she knew what was going on.

“We heard there’s a new Queen,” he shifted from foot to foot.

She blew on the stick, scattering wood shavings. “There is. That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

He studied her for a moment, crossing his arms. “We are here to make sure the new Queen respects the accords we agreed upon with Queen Abby and King Jake before her. Us Grounders never know what to expect when a new royal takes the throne. Especially one who did it by overthrowing the last one.”

Clarke gulped. He had no idea she was the Princess. Correction, he had no idea she was the Queen.

“You heard about the revolt?”

Roan exchanged glances with the other two men, “ _Everyone_ heard about the revolt, Wanheda.”

She flinched at the name and he took notice, giving her a wolfish smile. “Don’t like that name, Clarke?”

“You know I don’t,” she carved off a little too much of the stick and cursed.

Roan chuckled, “Why not? You earned it.” She threw him a glare, ignoring the question.

“So you and the Grounders know that it was Queen Abby and the noble’s fault that people were dying?”

All humor gone, Roan nodded, “We do. That’s part of the reason we came so quickly. We wanted to meet this new Queen for ourselves. She sends knights and nurses to every village, provides clean water and medicine, and takes in all these sick… seems like quite a woman.”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh, causing Roan to raise his eyebrows.

“She’s alright.”

With a crooked grin he said, “Aww, Clarke are you upset because everyone loves the new Queen so much? Maybe you really just want her in your bed? I heard she’s a sight for sore eyes.”

Clarke stopped carving for a moment and gave him a dry look, “Yes, I am incredibly jealous of how attractive everyone finds the new Queen. It takes all of the attention away from me.”

He laughed and Clarke shot him a smile. She had missed Roan. He was a pain in the ass most of the time, and once or twice they had tried to kill each other, but he was a friend, sort of. He was smart, and funny, and loyal. Once Clarke had earned his respect, there was no going back.

His laughter faded, “Well, it was good seeing you, Clarke. I am glad you’re alive.”

“It was good seeing you too, Roan. Good luck with the Queen,” she smirked, giving him a wink.

“Goodnight, Wanheda,” he blew her a kiss, “Try not to cut off your finger.” 

After they were gone, Clarke was left wondering how court was going to play out later today. Roan was going to be pissed when he found out she was the Queen. The thought made her smile a little. His reaction would be priceless. She set the knife and shitty little carving to the side and decided to rest her eyes for a moment. It was going to be a long day.

 

 

Court had already begun when she got there. She hadn’t had time to change clothes, after spending the morning caring for two children who were fading in and out of consciousness. The young boy had lived, the young girl had not. Kane was at the throne, not sitting, but standing on the steps. He was talking to a man and a woman, asking questions and listening to their answers.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Kane was a good leader and she had made a solid choice making him her second. She'd had to threaten him first of course. And question him about his loyalties. But in the end she decided that Kane, while he did know about Abby trying to kill her, had tried to stop it. He hadn't approved of the murder of King Jake either and advised Abby to step down from the throne. His love for her had blinded him, made him weak. Now that she was in a cell every night and shackled by her ankles in the ballroom all day, helping with the ill, he seemed breathe a sigh of relief. 

The relationship between Abby, Kane, and her was complicated, but Clarke wasn’t petty enough to keep a good man from serving the kingdom. 

He caught her eye as she slipped in from the main doors. Usually, the Queen would enter from the back, but today Clarke was too tired to care. Bellamy would be mad at her for sneaking away from the royal guards, but she was too tired to care about that too. 

She walked slowly, allowing Marcus to finish with the couple and begin the next introduction.

“And now, I would like to present Roan of Azgeda to the Royal Court. His lordship has traveled very far to be with us today and we welcome you to our capital.” 

Clarke edged along the sides of the throne room, trying to avoid being noticed. It was easy when she was dressed in trousers and all eyes were on the Grounders at the front of the room. No one was looking for the Queen in the crowd. 

She could tell Roan was agitated when he spoke. “Thank you for welcoming us, Lord Kane. Though, I find myself a little disappointed. We were told we would be meeting with the Queen today, not her advisor.”

Kane bowed his head, ever the diplomat, “You will meet with the Queen. Here she is now!”

Getting to the side of the raised floor, Clarke hopped onto the platform, not wanting to elbow her way past Roan and Kane on the steps. It wasn’t very proper and she wouldn’t have been able to do it in a dress, but exhaustion had made her bold. Kane bowed as she approached, a glint in his eye. He couldn’t believe she had just done that and frankly, neither could half the crowd. 

She came to the front of the throne, avoiding looking at the Grounders.

“I apologize, people of Ark Kingdom, for my tardiness and my appearance. I was with the sick till late this morning and lost track of time.”

The crowd volume increased a bit at that. They all knew Clarke was untraditional. Some of them hated it, some of them found it refreshing, but what they all agreed on was that the Queen worked tirelessly to help nurse the sick. When she wasn’t in court, Clarke was in the ballroom. And they all knew it. 

She met Roan’s eyes then, expecting him to look furious. Instead, his eyes shone with humor and he wore a wicked smile. Clarke tried not to let her surprise show. He was _happy?_  

“Roan of Azgeda, I apologize for not being here to welcome you properly.”

“You’re here now, my Queen. And let me say, what a pleasure it is,” Roan bowed, giving Clarke a raised eyebrow and a wink only she could see. She tried not to snort. 

“I know there is much to discuss, let’s do so over lunch,” Clarke gestured behind her and the royal guard began shuffling people out of the room. Court was over and Clarke was starving. People stared at the three Grounders as they were being herded away, trying to get one last look.

Clarke led Roan and his men out the back of the throne room, her royal guard trailing close behind. They were wary of the Grounders; she could tell by the way the knights rested their hands on their sword pommels. A table had already been set by the time they made it to the dinning room. Drinks were poured and Clarke’s stomach growled at the smell of hot food.

 

 

 

 

Madi shoved the doors to the kitchen open, before Bellamy could stop her. The child was a handful, and he was exhausted after only watching her for a day. How had Clarke done it for six years on her own?

He chased after the girl, cursing under his breath at her seemingly endless energy.

“Mom!” he heard her squeal, surprising him. Clarke was here? There were voices in the dining room. He saw Murphy and another royal guard standing outside the door and Bellamy nodded at them as he passed. Murphy gave him a sly grin. Huh? What was that all about? 

Bellamy stopped short, confused by what he was seeing. Clarke was there, Madi squirming on her lap, and to Clarke’s right was a Grounder. The man was huge, longhaired, and frankly frightening _._ Two other Grounders sat at the table, eating in silence. What was Clarke doing having lunch with three Grounders and why did she look so… relaxed? She was wearing her work clothes, simple trousers and shirt. Her hair was tossed up on her head and she was smiling, a real genuine smile, that confused him even more. Clarke turned at Bellamy’s arrival.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed, and then winced when he saw Madi was chattering nonstop, “Sorry.”

Maybe he should take Madi and go. Obviously, Clarke was preoccupied. But the thought of leaving her alone in this room made him uneasy. In fact, why weren’t the royal knights in the room with her in the first place?

“It’s alright,” Clarke gave him a stiff smile, indicating that Madi could stay. She gestured to the man next to her, “Roan of Azgeda, this is Sir Blake.” 

Roan nodded his head in acknowledgement and Bellamy’s stomach rolled. Why did the Grounder look so happy to see him?

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Bellamy said, coming up behind Clarke’s chair and setting a hand on the top. Roan followed the movement with raised eyebrows.

“Madi,” Clarke said, silencing the girl, “do you remember Roan?”

Madi’s eyes jumped to the large Grounder and Bellamy stiffened. _Clarke and Madi knew him?_  It started to make more sense why Clarke was so calm. They must have met sometime during the past six years. He felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. How exactly _did_ Clarke know Roan?

The toddler studied Roan for a moment, before her face broke out into a smile, “I remember you. You gave us a deer once.”

“That’s right, Madi. I took care of you and your mama,” his eyes slid to Clarke as he said it. “Now look at you. Your mom’s the Queen and you’re a Princess!”

Bellamy had to keep from gritting his teeth. Roan had taken care of Clarke and Madi, feeding them when they couldn’t feed themselves. All while Bellamy had been in the castle, playing bodyguard. It made him feel incredibly guilty and more than that, it made him angry.

The girl giggled.

“What did you do today, Madi?” Clarke spoke, stroking her hair.

The child started in on some wild story and Roan listened attentively. Even the other Grounders seemed interested in Madi’s animated tale. Bellamy couldn’t help but smile as Madi told them about riding horses and Bellamy teaching her how to make a flower crown.

“Sounds like quite a day,” Roan smiled, his eyes glancing between the two of them. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Clarke, lunch was wonderful, but I think its time we talk about why I came here in the first place.”

Bellamy wanted to snap at Roan for not addressing her as ‘Your Majesty’, but he kept quiet, squeezing the chair a little harder. 

“Sir Miller!” Clarke called abruptly, summoning the knight.

Miller appeared in the doorway, “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Would you send for Madi’s aunt?”

He nodded and disappeared. Everyone in the room seemed to stiffen. Clarke was sending Madi away for a reason and the silence in the room didn’t bode well. 

“I don’t want to go!” the girl cried when she realized she was going to be sent away, clutching onto Clarke’s shirt. 

“I wasn’t asking,” Clarke said harshly and Madi seemed to recognize the seriousness in her mother’s voice. She crossed her arms, but slid to the ground, obeying. A moment later Octavia appeared.

“Someone called for me?” she was breathless, like she’d been running. The Grounders all turned at her entrance, unable to take their eyes off of the beautiful young woman with inky hair and bright eyes. Bellamy gritted his teeth. That was his _sister_ they were leering at. 

“Could you watch Madi for the next hour or so?” Clarke said.

“Of course,” Octavia stepped into the room, scooping up the girl. “We are going to eat so much cake!” she announced, swinging the girl around.

“Yay!” Madi cried, pumping her fist, and Clarke just rolled her eyes. 

“Not too much before dinner!”

Octavia waved behind her, brushing Clarke off, but she paused before fully leaving the room. She meet Bellamy’s eyes, Clarke’s, and then the Grounders. Thankfully, she just raised her brows and left, still talking about all the junk her and Madi were about to eat.

“Clarke,” Roan said, calling for her attention, “You know why I’m here. Will you agree to the terms your father and my people agreed upon years ago?”

The Queen straightened in her chair, meeting Roan’s eyes. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just held the Grounder’s gaze. Finally, she took a deep breath and the room grew thick with anticipation.

“No.”

Roan blinked. Well that was unexpected. The two other Grounders exchanged a look, their bodies growing rigid and hands inching closer to their weapons. Bellamy, too, dropped his hand to his waist and nearby sword.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Clarke said, “I will not agree to the previous terms.”

Roan’s eyes hardened and he swallowed. “Clar- Your Majesty,” he corrected swiftly, all comfortable energy gone, “What about the terms make you… What part do you not agree with?”

Clarke’s face was blank, giving nothing away. Suddenly, she stood, and Bellamy had to step back as the chair was shoved into him. The Grounders’ hands jumped to their weapons, but Clarke was seemingly unaware of the tension and began to pace. 

“What are your taxes now?” she snapped, walking down the length of the table.

Roan’s eyes narrowed as he followed her movement, “Forty percent.”

She nodded, face still empty. The men watched as she pulled a knife from her waist and began twirling it effortlessly in her hand. It seemed like a habit, the same way someone would bite their lip or rub their neck when they were thinking. Nonetheless, she was playing with a knife and it made everyone a little more nervous. 

“And how many warriors do you have?”

If Roan was surprised by the question he didn’t show it, “Five hundred.” She nodded to herself, but continued pacing. 

“And how many elected leaders do you have?” 

“None,” Roan said instantly. It wasn’t true of course. The Grounders had leaders, they just weren’t _supposed_ to under the current treaty. Clarke gave him a dry look, admonishing the lie.

Roan gulped and shifted in his seat, “One for each clan. Thirteen. Along with a few others.”

“That’s about what I thought.” Clarke came to stop back at the head of the table and slid the knife back into her belt, “I propose we create a new set of accords.” 

The Grounders blinked in shock and Roan raised a questioning brow, “What do have in mind?”

She spread her hands on the table and leaned it. Bellamy knew Clarke could be intimidating when she wanted to. In this moment, the only woman in a room full of dangerous men, she looked like the most powerful person he’d ever seen. 

“I don’t want the Grounders to be a part of Ark Kingdom any longer.” The statement sat in the room for a moment. “You never wanted to be ruled by my father, he forced the choice on you. You already have your own leaders, you have your own laws, and the Crown does nothing for you but take your food and supplies.”

There was still no response, so Clarke barreled on. “In return for your freedom, I request we become partnered countries. There is a lot we can learn from each other, Roan. Your warriors are strong and adaptable. You know the land better than us, and how to use it effectively. The knights of the Ark have the training, discipline, and strategy to overpower almost anyone. Not to mention we have the resources for making weaponry.” 

“What are you saying?” Roan’s voice cracked. The proposal had taken him completely by surprise.

“You are free to rule your people as you wish, but I still want your support. In return you will have mine. If one of the clans gets out of control, you can count on the Ark to have your back. If any of my citizens harm your people, they will be punished to the full extent of the law. If any of your people decide to attack Arcadia, I would count on you to help me defeat them. I no longer want the Grounders to be my subjects. I want us to be allies.”

Bellamy couldn’t take his eyes off of her. How could someone who had been through so much pain be so _good_? She was incredible and selfless and strong and in that moment he wanted nothing else but to grab her and kiss her. To tell her how brave he thought she was, how much he admired her.

“Why?” 

Clarke slid her hands off of the table, coming to her full height and shrugged, “I want to be better. My father was a good man, but a terrible leader. He took what he wanted without thinking of the consequences. My mother had my father killed, tried to have me killed, and poisoned thousands of people. It won’t be hard to be better than her… I want to be a more honorable ruler than either of them was, for the kingdom and for Madi. That starts with trying to right my parent’s wrongs.”

It seemed the Grounders had finally recovered from shock. Roan cleared his throat and adjusted his shoulders to a more upright position.

“I will have to talk to my people.” 

“Of course,” she said.

“When do you need an answer by?”

Clarke thought about it for a minute, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I will need to know your decision in a week. If you decide not to take my offer, we can revisit the previous accords and make adjustments as necessary.”

Roan nodded, his face giving nothing away. “I will return in a week.”

He stood and the other Grounders followed suit. They made their way around the table, but Roan stopped short in front of Clarke. The woman had deep circles under her eyes, her hair was scattered across her head, and she was still wearing the blood covered shirt and trousers from the day before. No matter how tattered she looked, Clarke was still the Queen. Roan knew it, the Grounders with him knew it, Bellamy knew it, and she knew it. What she had just offered was unheard of. It was brave and could ultimately backfire if the Grounders took their freedom and ran with it.

But there was a familiar sparkle in Clarke’s eye. She trusted Roan enough to make the offer, to not betray her if he agreed, and Roan had no choice but to reciprocate that trust. Clarke could be ruthless, he had seen that first hand, but she wasn't a liar.

As a sign of respect, Roan inclined his head, and Clarke gave him a smirk, stepping back to let them pass. The Grounders left the room, left the castle actually, and began their journey home. They had a decision to make.


	36. Chapter 36

“Here drink this,” Clarke guided a cup to the woman’s mouth. She took the cup in her shaky hands, sipping the water slowly, some of it dribbling down her cheek.

Clarke leaned over the bed to grab a clean cloth, just as the woman jerked up, coughing violently. A wet splatter of blood hit Clarke directly in the face.

“Someone help!” Clarke cried, trying not to gag as she tasted blood. The woman was choking. Two women rushed over, helping Clarke pound on the woman’s back and coaxing her through the fit.

“ _Your Majesty! Grounders!”_

Clarke’s head swung towards the shout. A knight was standing feet away, out of breath and face void of color. Grounders? Were they attacking?

“You have to come quick,” he said between breaths. 

Clarke didn’t waste a moment, standing and sprinting after the knight as he led her through the castle. Scenarios whizzed through her mind. Did the Grounders take her offer as a sign of freedom and decide to get back at the Ark for keeping them subservient so long? Did they show up to speak with her and get into a fight? Did the royal guards, those that were miserable bastards, attack the Grounders first? None of the possibilities sounded very good and she vaguely wished she had her sword.

The knight let her to the throne room and Clarke’s stomach took a nosedive. Court was already in session, led my Marcus Kane. Today was a day for disputes and Clarke was planning on attending as soon as she was done with the sick woman. If the Grounders were attacking, there would be hundreds of innocents at their mercy. 

She skidded through the door, ready to start shouting and throwing punches, but it took her mind a moment to catch up with the scene in front of here.

There were Grounders here. Lots of them. And at her noisy arrival, they turned. Clarke felt suddenly self-conscious standing in front of these fearsome people, dressed in dirty pants and shirt, face splattered with blood and hair strung out.  

Adrenaline still had her heart pumping, and while there didn’t seem to be any fighting, she could hear arguing at the front of the room.

“Excuse me,” Clarke said, shoving forward. The Grounders didn’t move out of her way; just let her bump against them as she wormed her way through. Some of them sneered, others didn’t even look down as she passed.

She made it to the front of the room, breaking through the last line of Grounders with a grunt.

Marcus Kane was on the throne steps, arms crossed, and Roan was across from him, rolling his eyes.

“ _Clarke_?” she turned at the sound of her name, staring into the eyes of a Grounder she never thought she’d see again.  

“Echo?”

“What are you doing here?”

Clarke didn’t answer, just turned back to the scene at the front of the room. She moved forward, but a hand stopped her. Echo had grabbed her by the shoulder.

“You can’t go up there.”

“Like hell I can’t.”

“That’s my King up there, Wanheda. I don’t know what you think you are-” 

A large Grounder slid up behind Echo and Clarke recognized him as one of the men Roan had brought a week ago.

“Let her go, Echo."

Echo only tightened her hold and Clarke was about ready to sock her in the face. She didn’t have time for this.

“Roan’s up there, Augustus. She could be trying to hurt him.”

Augustus pointed to the stage, “That’s _her_ throne, Echo." 

Echo’s eyes widened, but Clarke had had enough. She pushed down on the bend in Echo’s arm, breaking her hold, and striding forward. Stupid Grounders and there stupid protective, alpha bullshit.

“Roan,” Clarke snapped, “What is the meaning of this?”

 Roan and Kane turned, their jaws dropping at the sight of an angry and bloody Clarke below them.

“Your Majesty,” Kane bowed.

“Clarke, hello.” Roan said. Hello? _Hello_? What the hell was he playing at? 

Clarke responded by crossing her arms, trying her best to look intimidating even though she was positioned beneath them. 

Roan cleared his throat, “We’ve made a decision.” 

“Oh?”

Why did he bring a hundred Grounders to the castle just to announce this? It didn’t make sense. Kane seemed equally irritated and confused. That must’ve been what they were arguing about.

“The Grounders are pleased to accept your offer of liberation.” 

There was a commotion from the back of the room and Grounders started to grumble, parting to let someone through. Bellamy forced himself out of the throng of people, eyes finding Clarke’s and immediately flooding with relief. He must’ve heard about all the Grounders and thought the worst. Bellamy had come to save her…

Bellamy edged his way along the people, coming shoulder to shoulder with Clarke. Feeling stronger with him there, she turned her attention back to Roan.

“The crown is pleased with your decision. Have your people elected a leader?”

An evil grin spread on Roan’s face. “They have. It will be an honor to serve my people as King.”

Clarke nodded, having expected this.

“As King, would you like to explain to me why you brought all these people with you?”

“These are some of my clans’ finest warriors. I have brought them as the first step in sealing our alliance." 

Clarke glanced around, meeting eyes with some of the men and women. They were staring at her, assessing. Some of these people she recognized from Mount Weather. How many of them knew her as Wanheda?

Roan continued, “My warriors will train with your knights, as you suggested. They will teach each other, learn from each other, and then bring the skills they learn back to their clan and teach the others.”

Clarke smiled, liking the idea. “May I propose a second step in this alliance?”

Roan nodded.

“I would like some of my nurses to visit the Grounder villages and learn from your healers. I would also like to send men and women who are gifted in hunting and trapping to learn from your people. We have the weapons, but your people know the land and how to use it.”

“A wonderful idea. I will arrange for your people to be safely escorted.”

Roan stepped down off of the platform, coming face to face with Clarke, his gaze serious. She gulped, but righted her shoulders. This was her throne room after all. This was her castle. This was her kingdom. 

“I want to thank you, Clarke, for our freedom. We were never sure this day would come.”

“The honor is mine.”

Roan looked over the massive group of people he had brought with him, then brought his gaze back to Clarke. Slowly, he knelt. The Grounders were taken aback and rushed to kneel as well. Their King was bowing and they couldn’t remain standing above him.

Clarke watched in awe as the entire room of mighty warriors bowed to her. Bellamy looked amazed, Clarke felt it as tears pricked in her eyes. 

She had earned Roan's respect. She had freed the Grounders. This was their thank you and it was more than she could've ever asked for. 

“Rise, Roan of Azgeda, King of the Grounders.”

He stood, giving her a smirk, and the people followed. 

“From this moment on, we are equals,” Clarke said, extending her hand. Roan grasped her forearm with his own large hand.

“I look forward to years of working together, Wanheda.”

She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t comment. The Grounders that didn’t know she was Wanheda before sure did now. 

Clarke pulled her hand back.

“Let’s get to work then.”

 

 

 

 

Clarke put Bellamy and Miller in charge of training the Grounders. Together, they set up drills and assigned other knights as instructors. People gathered to watch the exercises, awed by the vicious way the Grounders moved. Clarke would watch when she could. Madi seemed enthralled by the Grounders and they seemed happy to feed her enthusiasm. Twice, Clarke had come over the hill and seen a Grounder showing Madi how to hold their curved weapon. Bellamy was always close by, making sure Madi was being safe, and keeping a close eye on the people she interacted with.

There was tension between the knights and Grounders at first, a certain pride issue obvious. Both thought they were the better fighters.

Bellamy tried to lead by example. He and Echo worked together, doing demonstrations and collaborating on lesson ideas. The knights respected Bellamy and the Grounders respected Echo, but overcoming the differences just wasn’t that easy. Fights broke out almost every day and Clarke had to patch up more than a few injuries that weren’t from training.

In the end, it was Madi that brought them together. The knights adored her. The Grounders were impressed with her spirit and bluntness. She was seated on the top of the fence, swinging her legs back and forth, when she fell. The clashing of metal stopped immediately. Bellamy plowed through the people in front of him.

“ _Madi_!"

 When he got to her, two Grounders were already there. She writhed in pain, holding her arm and sobbing.

 “It’s broken,” one of the women said. Bellamy rushed to pick her up, but a Grounder stopped him.

“Wait, let me stabilize the arm before you move her.” The man took off his shirt, ripping it into strips. 

“You’re okay, Madi,” Bellamy soothed, stroking her hair, “Just hold still, baby, you’re going to be okay.”

 Everyone else had gathered around the child now, watching with worried eyes.

The Grounder man carefully adjusted Madi’s arm, whispering soothing things to keep her calm, and making sure the arm wouldn’t jostle too much. Bellamy carried Madi to the castle, followed by at least three Grounders and five knights. When Clarke saw them she stopped cold, her eyes zeroing in on her daughter. Bellamy watched from a few feet away and Clarke reset Madi’s arm, promising her it would all be over soon and wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

At the training grounds the next day a group of Grounders approached Bellamy.

“Is the child okay?”

“Here are some herbs for the pain.”

“I carved this for her.”

Bellamy hadn’t told anyone he was Madi’s father, but they all seemed to know. All day, he was flooded with gifts and kind words.

In the following week, the Grounders and knights started to realize just how much they missed Madi. She was always there- laughing, shouting directions that Murphy whispered to her, watching the fighters with wide eyes. Without her, the training grounds just weren’t the same.

The fighting stopped almost entirely. The knights and Grounders began voluntarily eating meals together, sharing stories and food. When Madi returned with a huge grin and an arm in a sling, she was welcomed back with cheers and smiles.

 

 

 

"Why do you call Clarke Wanheda?" Bellamy asked Echo one day. She lifted her head from where she was sharpening a sword.

"Because she defeated the Mountain."

Well, that didn't help him much.

"What does it even mean?"

"The Commander of Death."

" _What_?" Bellamy asked incredulously. Why would the Grounders call Clarke the _Commander of Death?_

A dark shadow passed over Echo's face, remembering something horrific. "Clarke earned that name. She killed the Mountain Men and saved some of my people in the process."

Bellamy didn't know what Echo was talking about and she wasn't going to explain any more than she already had.

The name was more a bit more sinister than he originally thought. What had Clarke done to receive such an powerful title from such a fierce group of people? 

 

 

 

Clarke was busier than ever. She was in the ballroom, helping the sick. The amount of cots was gradually decreasing as people got better and went home. And she was proud to say that no one had died in the past two weeks. 

She was in court almost every day. People wanted to know how she was going to change taxes, would she still throw monthly balls, and on and on. It was exhausting and she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen any of her friends.

She no longer had time to watch the Grounders and knights, she barely had time to fetch Madi every afternoon. 

Clarke still had a hard time sleeping and eventually she decided to move into the Queen’s quarters. Her tossing and turning was keeping Madi from sleeping. Every morning, she and Murphy went to the training grounds before the sun was up and would sword fight. It was the only time of day she truly felt like herself, or like the old Clarke at least. She was getting better and better and could feel her strength returning.

If someone were at the grounds, she and Murphy would jog around the castle, up flights of stairs, down them, and then back up again. Murphy complained the whole time, but Clarke ignored him. She knew he didn’t mind that much and actually liked how the exercise was making him fitter. But, she did see the worried way he watched her. Like she was going to break. It only made Clarke want to train harder, to prove that she wasn’t broken. Just damaged.


	37. Chapter 37

Octavia was in the kitchen with Raven, getting the food ready. Bellamy was chatting with Miller, drinking beer. Jordan and Madi played happily by the fire, while Harper and Monty sat on the couch, smiling down at them. The two women brought the food to the table and called for everyone to sit down. They were half way through the meal when the door flew open. Murphy paused to look at the happy people around the table, before slamming the door behind him. Slowly, the chatter of the room faded. 

“Murphy?” Raven questioned, “What’s wrong?”

He snorted, giving them all an angry glare, then stormed into the kitchen. Conversation returned awkwardly, trying to mask the uncomfortable air in the room. Murphy came back into the room a moment later and aggressively pulled out the chair next to Bellamy.

“What the hell is going on, Murphy?” Bellamy kept his voice quiet so the children couldn’t hear. Murphy took a long swing of beer. He looked at Madi and Jordan pointedly, then took another angry drink. The adults in the room caught on. Whatever he had to say, he wasn’t going to say it in front of the children. Dinner finished and dessert was served. Murphy didn’t eat or speak, just drank. As soon as the table was clear, Harper hurriedly escorted Madi and Jordan to bed. 

“Okay, so what the fuck is wrong with you?” Raven snapped when everyone was gathered around the table once more. 

“I can’t believe all of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Monty asked, brow furrowing. 

“Where’s Clarke?” Murphy asked, his eyes meeting everyone’s around the table. Bellamy stiffened at the mention of her name. 

“What do you mean?” Harper’s voice was panicked, “Is she missing?” 

“No. I mean where is Clarke. Why did none of you invite her tonight?” 

Harper blinked, suddenly understanding. Raven’s face slowly turned ashamed, Monty and Miller’s eyes both widened. Bellamy sat stiffly, face blank. 

Raven spoke first, “She’s been so busy lately.” 

“Did anyone even ask her what she was doing tonight?” Murphy’s asked, his hand clenching around the cup. 

Now, no one seemed to be able to meet his eye. “When I left the castle tonight, I asked Clarke if she wanted to walk together, but she had no idea what I was talking about. She thought Madi was having a sleepover at Monty and Harper’s!” 

“Why didn’t you just ask her to come?” Octavia said sassily. Murphy turned towards the younger Blake and narrowed his eyes. 

“I did. And you know what she said? She said if anyone really wanted her here, then she would’ve been asked before now. Then she just walked away!”

The room was quiet. Why wasn’t Clarke here? This dinner had become a routine for all of them in the past six years. It was a blessing that they all had the time to see each other once a month with how crazy their lives had become. But now Clarke was back and things were different. 

“Am I missing something?” Murphy continued, “Do we not want Clarke here?” 

“I was going to say something to her, but I haven’t seen her in a week,” Raven said quietly. 

Harper nodded, “I would have invited her, I’ve just been so busy with the baby.”

Murphy laughed, a sharp bark. “Clarke’s daughter is here, but no one thought to actually bring Clarke.” His glare turned on Bellamy, who was unusually quiet. Bellamy shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under Murphy’s anger. 

“Got anything to say for yourself, Blake?” His eyes lifted to Murphy’s. Him? Suddenly it was his fault Clarke wasn’t invited to dinner? 

“I don’t talk to Clarke that much anymore. When she comes to pick up Madi, she waits up the hill. She doesn’t even walk to the fence anymore.” The excuse sounded lame even to his ears. 

“I wonder why that is,” Murphy snorted and took a long sip. Anger flared in Bellamy’s chest. What the hell was that supposed to mean? None of this was his fault, but they were all looking at him like it was. 

“Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is you’re trying to imply, John!” he snapped. 

Murphy straightened, unwilling to be afraid of Bellamy’s anger. “Why don’t we talk about Jay?” 

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed. What was he playing at and why was he brining this up now? 

“I’m not sure what he has to do with this.”

“Everyone knew who Jay was, the boy you used to train once a week. The one you wanted to help. But Jay was actually Clarke and you never told anybody about it.” 

Bellamy gritted his teeth. He really wanted to punch Murphy in the face right now, but before he could reply the others spoke up.

“What is he talking about?” Raven asked.

“Huh?” Octavia echoed. Miller and Monty had bunched eyebrows. Harper was looking down at her hands in her lap. She knew where Murphy was going with this, even if the others didn’t yet. 

“Bell, what is he saying?” Octavia repeated and Bellamy took a deep breath to explain.

“When I was Clarke’s knight, I used to get one night off a week. I would usually spend the evening with O and then go to the training grounds when she fell asleep, but this boy kept showing up. He was small and dirty and he said he wanted to learn how to fight. So, I took pity on him. I started helping him with the sword, even some hand-to-hand stuff. The kid was getting pretty good. One night, Miller, Jasper, Monty and Murphy showed up to train. Jay got really spooked and took off. But the damn kid took the sword with him, so I had to chance after him to get it. I followed him back towards the castle and I’m searching and searching for him. Finally, I hear this weird noise and I look up,” Bellamy took a shaky breath, eyes trained on the wall in front of him. He could remember the night so clearly, even now, six years later. 

“I look up and the fucking kid is climbing the stone wall. I’m about ready to follow him and drag him back down, when I notice this huge gap in the stones. I thought to myself, there’s no way that kid will be able to make it, he’ll have to turn around. So, there I am, staring up like an idiot, when Jay jumps up and grabs onto the stones at least 7 feet above him. He dangles there and I was sure he was going to fall. Then, he starts to pull himself up. He made it look so fucking easy. I’m fucking dumbstruck at this point. The kid keeps climbing and that’s when I notice where he’s headed. It’s the Princess’s window above him. I run through the castle, trying to get to her before that scrawny little kid could kill her.” Bellamy shook his head, “And when I get there, I find him hiding under the bed and Harper is covering for him.” He looks to Harper then, she’s biting her lip, also remembering that day. “I was so angry, I shoved him up against the wall and I really thought I was going to kill him for trying to hurt the Princess. But I couldn’t do it. So, I dropped him and then he called me a jackass…” Bellamy trailed off, unable to finish the story.

“It was Clarke,” Raven supplied. All he could do was nod. 

“You trained her for months and had no idea it was her?” Miller sounded skeptical. 

Bellamy laughed, “She talked in this weirdly deep voice. I always thought it was just Jay trying to seem more grown up. And she wore these raggedy clothes, her hair was pinned under the hat, she smeared her face in dirt and grease,” Bellamy shrugged. “If I had even suspected Jay was a girl, I would’ve noticed. But I guess you can’t see what’s right in front of you sometimes.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with Clarke now?” Octavia blurted. She knew Clarke had been playing at something and sneaking out. She had seen Clarke dressed as a boy. The revelation that Bellamy had been training Clarke and didn’t know it rocked her, but she was more concerned about Murphy’s accusations. 

Murphy never stopped looking at Bellamy as he spoke, “For months, Bellamy trained Clarke. He taught her how to fight and protect herself. He pushed her and she was better for it. Now, she has to go back to the training grounds every day and see Bellamy doing that with someone else.”

Octavia blinked, suddenly realizing what Murphy was implying. Monty and Miller exchanged looks and Raven rubbed a hand over her face. She knew too. Bellamy was the only one still oblivious.

“What are you talking about?” he looked around with wide eyes. Octavia gave him a sympathetic look. Her brother really was an idiot sometimes. 

Raven was the one to explain, “Clarke has to see you with Echo.”

“So?” Bellamy asked raking a hand through his curls. What did Echo have to do with anything?

“So, Clarke has to see you training with Echo, the same way you did with her. Except, you know Echo is a woman. You’re pushing her the same way you pushed Clarke, but you never would’ve trained Clarke that hard if you had known who she really was,” Raven said. 

“So, she’s jealous?” Bellamy asked incredulously. He never thought of Echo that way. Sure, she was attractive and strong, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. They were entirely different people. She would never understand him the way… the way Clarke did, he realized. No one would ever understand him the way Clarke did. Not even Octavia. 

Murphy shook his head vehemently, “She’s not jealous, Bellamy. Clarke has been on her own for six years. She had to raise a child on her own in the wild for six years. She-”

Bellamy stood, unable to contain his anger any longer, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wish she didn’t have to raise Madi all by herself? Every day I want to scream thinking about it. Clarke was alone and I did nothing. I left her,” his voice broke, and so did something in their hearts. Bellamy blamed himself. It was just the kind of person he was. He felt guilty, they all did, but he took the brunt of it. Clarke was his to take care of and he felt like he had failed her. 

“None of us knew she was alive,” Raven said quietly, “If we had, you know we wouldn’t have stopped until she was safe.”

“We had no way of knowing,” Monty dropped his eyes in shame. Bellamy took deep breaths and finally sat again. He reached for his beer, gulping down the entire glass. 

Murphy continued, “Bellamy, Clarke sits in the castle all day, meeting with citizens and mediating petty disputes. She’s been organizing this new treaty with the Grounders and she is great at it. I think she is a wonderful Queen, but I know she hates it. You can tell she is uncomfortable half the time and she jumps at nearly every noise, but mostly she is just lonely. She covers it pretty well and keeps herself busy, but you can tell. Before… before she came back, she at least had Madi. Now she only sees her at night and you know what Madi talks about?”

Bellamy’s eyes met his, unshed tears making them swim. He didn’t like hearing how Clarke still suffered even though she was home. Knowing he was part of the problem only made it worse. 

“You. All Madi can talk about is you. What you taught her, what you did, what joke you made. She talks about Raven and Octavia too and Clarke sits there and listens, like any good mother would, but I can tell it hurts her,” he paused. “Clarke is back, but we are all still treating her like she’s dead.” 

“That’s not fair!” Octavia cried out, offended. Raven, too, shook her head. 

“Really? What have you been doing lately that’s so important you can’t go see her?” Murphy raised a brow at Octavia. 

She sputtered, coming up with some excuse about the horses. Murphy just smirked and she quickly snapped her jaw shut.

“And you,” he turned to Raven, “You could walk ten minutes to see her, but you don’t. I know the shop isn’t that busy all the time.”

Raven clenched her teeth, but didn’t argue. He was right. She had been avoiding Clarke, even if it hadn’t been intentional. 

“Half of us wouldn’t even know each other if it wasn’t for Clarke,” Murphy said. That statement felt like the final blow. Clarke had brought them all together, and yet they weren’t taking care of her the way she had taken care of them. 

Bellamy was slumped over the table, one hand on his forehead. The fact that Clarke was hurting, hurt him. 

“Clarke doesn’t go to the training grounds anymore, because she doesn’t want to watch you train another woman the way you would never train her. She lets Madi see you, because she knows it makes her happy. Because Clarke is a good mother and she wants you to get to know your daughter, but now Madi, the one constant in her life, seems to be slipping away too. She can’t leave the castle to come see any of you, because she is trying to be a good Queen. Now, she probably thinks none of you want to see her anyway.”

Murphy polished off his drink, while the others sat in silence. Raven had tears trailing down her cheeks. Monty was holding Harpers hand, both of them lost in thought. Miller looked grim. Octavia stilled looked defiant, unable to accept that she had done Clarke any harm. Bellamy… Bellamy had his face in his hands, trying to hold it together. 

Murphy had come in angry, but the feeling was gone now. All he felt was sadness, sadness for Clarke and for his friends. They hadn’t intended to hurt her but now everyone was feeling miserable. Clarke still got up every morning, pretending nothing bothered her, but Murphy could see it for what it was- a mask, an illusion. He was known for doing the same thing. It was part of who they were. Always moving, hiding their emotions, ignoring their own pain. 

“I’ll go see her tomorrow,” Bellamy’s voice was muffled by his hands.

“That’s a start,” Murphy snorted and Bellamy leaned back suddenly, guilt and self-loathing painted all over his face. 

“We get it Murphy, we fucked up. Clarke came back from the dead and instead of treating her the way we should’ve, we all pretended she was fine. We took her daughter away from her and left her in the castle to run the country by her self. We didn’t see it, because Clarke is good at hiding how she really feels, but we should’ve. That’s what Clarke has always done and we all should’ve recognized it sooner. We should’ve been there for her. She was alone for six years and thanks to us, to me, she still is,” Bellamy pushed his chair back forcefully and strode out of the house. No one followed. 

After a minute, Harper and Monty got up to retrieve a sleeping Jordan and excuse themselves. Miller, too, said a soft goodbye and left. Murphy followed him out the door and Raven retreated to the empty guest room without a word. 

Octavia was left to clean up the rest of the mess, which she did, lazily, before collapsing on the couch. It was unlikely she would relax at all tonight and even more unlikely Bellamy would return. She had no idea where he disappeared to when he was upset, but he always came back in the morning. She tried to close her eyes and sleep, but sleep never came. Would any of them sleep soundly tonight?


	38. Chapter 38

“Mom!” Madi shrieked as she ran into the dinning room that morning. Clarke was slouched over a mound of letters that had been sent from the people of the Ark. She jerked her head up, just in time for Madi to crash into her.

Madi was supposed to be spending the afternoon with Bellamy and Octavia at the stables. Had she slipped away? Or maybe the Blake’s hadn’t been paying enough attention to her and Madi decided to leave. Either way, Clarke was swamped with work and she hadn’t even slept the night before.

“Madi, what are you-”

“Hey, Clarke,” Bellamy said from the doorway and her question was answered.

“Hey.”

“Sorry to just barge in on you like this,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

“It’s fine.” Clarke moved Madi to the nearby seat, not wanting her ruffling through the papers.

“I thought maybe you could take the day off.”

She snorted. “That’s funny.”

Bellamy took the seat on the other side of her, eyeing the pile of letters.

“You need a break.”

“I’ll let the kingdom know,” she said, dry.

“C’mon, Mom! Bellamy wants to take us swimming!”

She couldn’t just leave for the day- she was the Queen and she had way too much work to be doing.

“Clarke, if you don’t rest, you’re going to reach your breaking point. And then you wont be doing the kingdom any good.”

She hated that he was right. She had been going, going, going for so long it was starting to catch up with her. When was the last time she had even eaten? Or slept more than a few hours? 

“Kane said he would cancel court for the day. I think he needs rest too,” Bellamy added.

“You talked to Kane about this?”

Bellamy looked sheepish, “I did. I figured you’d agree to come with us if everything else was already taken care of.”

Clarke wanted to be mad at Bellamy for talking to Kane behind her back, but all she felt was relief. She supposed she could take a few hours off…

“I have to finish with these.”

Bellamy nodded, “How long do you think it will take?" 

Clarke eyed the pile, “If I hurry, two hours.” 

“Madi and I will go pack and get the horses ready and be back in two hours.”

He stood, motioning for Madi to follow. Clarke watched them go. She really shouldn’t take the day off, but the thought of spending a day outside, just her and Madi and Bellamy. It was too good to resist.

 

 

 

 

“Come swim, Mom!”

Clarke looked up from where she was lying on the blanket Bellamy had brought. It was hot out today and the water was cool, but Clarke was still wearing her pants and shirt. They were dark colored and she had to be burning hot.

“Yeah c’mon, Clarke!” Bellamy goaded. He didn’t know why she wasn’t in the water, but Clarke would usually agree to something if she thought it was a challenge. She sat up, eyeing them.

“I’m fine here.”

“Moooom,” Madi begged and Bellamy was about to joke that she was being boring, but the look in Clarke’s eye stopped him. The desire to take off her hot clothes was evident, but hidden beneath that was serious apprehension. What did she have to be worried about? 

“I don’t want to get wet, Madi.”

“But you used to love to go swimming!”

Clarke winced and her eyes drifted over to Bellamy. It wasn’t personal, he tried to tell himself, but really it was. She didn’t want to go swimming because he was here.

Bellamy tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it just came out uncomfortable and awkward. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest, staying there for a moment before jerking away. 

“I can take a walk,” he offered, not wanting to be the reason she wasn’t enjoying herself.

“No!” Madi cried, paddling over to him. “I want to play monkey in the middle! C’mon Mom, please?”

The pleading look in her blue eyes was almost unbearable. Rarely could she refuse Madi when she was looking at her like that. Clarke sighed and shifted to stand. She brought her hands down to hem of her shirt and paused, eyes finding Bellamy’s. 

Terror filled her face and he turned his head to give her privacy.

“Yay!” Madi shouted, splashing around. When Bellamy looked back, Clarke was in the water. She visibly exhaled at the relief of not being in beating sun anymore. 

“You’re in the middle mom!” Madi pointed and Clarke just shook her head, wading into the deeper water. 

They splashed around for what seemed like forever. Eventually, Madi tired out and went back to shore to lie on the blanket and eat an apple. Bellamy stayed in the water with Clarke, gently moving his arms and legs to stay afloat. He was tired too, but as soon as he left the pond the day would be over and he didn’t want it to end yet. Clarke had stayed in the deeper pool the entire time, not going where the water was below her chest. She had to be tired from treading so long.

“Thanks for this,” she said quietly.

“You needed it,” he looked over to Madi, who had her eyes closed, “Both of you.”

Clarke smiled softly, “I think I’m going to get out.” 

He glanced over at her, trying not to seem disappointed. “Okay.” 

She paddled forward towards the shore and he saw the moment her feet touched the ground.

Bellamy watched as she took a deep breath, not looking over her shoulder, and walked up onto land. The moment he saw, he knew why she had been so scared to get in the water. 

Her skinny legs were scarred- nasty, swollen pale marks that covered both thighs and most of her calves. The marks were gruesome and Bellamy’s stomach turned imagining how she’d managed to get them. Clarke knew he was looking at her, looking at her legs. 

“Clarke,” he said darkly. She didn’t turn, just reached down to unfold her clothing. 

“I didn’t want you to see.”

It was a quiet sentence. Almost like she didn’t want to say it out loud.

Bellamy swam forward slowly, getting to where the water was at hip level and stopped. 

“What happened?”

She pulled a shirt over her head forcefully, trying to hide a sniffle.

“The Mountain Men.”

When he didn’t reply, she turned. Her face and eyes were sunken, haunted. “They took Madi and I did what I had to do to get her back.”

“Did you- did they…”

“I got myself kidnapped on purpose, to get Madi back. Roan… Roan helped me,” she fiddled with her pants. In that gesture alone, he could see just how much she was hurting.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

Clarke’s eyes met his. She was crying, lip quivering. “I want to.”

Bellamy waded through the water, holding her in place with his warm gaze. “Okay.”

Abruptly, she reached for him, hand shaking, and he took it without pause, holding it tight against his chest.

“The only way to get her back was to get my self caught,” Clarke started. This woman had sacrificed herself over and over again for her people. Bellamy knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do to save her own daughter. “They were at least taking care of her, feeding her and letting her play with the other children. But the Mountain Men were sick. Some of them were dying.” 

An awful memory surfaced and Clarke shook her head to get rid of it. Bellamy gripped her hand a little tighter, bringing her back to the present.

“They were trying to find a cure,” Clarke explained, “by testing human subjects.”

He fought to not look down at her legs. 

“They had captured Grounders, lots of them. That’s why Roan helped me. He thought if I could get in, I could get his people out. I found where they were holding them. Some were already dead in their cages.”

“Echo,” Bellamy breathed, realizing where the two women knew each other. Clarke nodded solemnly.

“They were torturing the Grounders. Injecting them with the sickness and then experimenting for possible cures. I knew I had to get them out. Dante, the leader of the Mountain Men, treated me well at first. He said he didn’t know that Madi was my daughter when they took her. He said they thought she was all on her own.”

Clarke was shaking. Whether from being wet or telling the story, he didn’t know. Slowly, Bellamy lowered them to the ground and Clarke allowed him to pull her close. Madi was sound asleep and far enough away he didn’t worry about her hearing.

“Anyway, Dante caught me snooping around the cages. I tried to act dumb, but he wasn’t stupid. He threw me in with them. Told me when Madi was old enough, he would put her in the cage too… I don’t know how long I was there,” Clarke said almost wistfully, staring out at the forest.

“How did you get away?”

She clenched her jaw. “When I first got to Mount Weather, I planned on killing Dante and running away with Madi in the chaos, but I didn’t know about the Grounders. I’d brought poison with me. One night, they were transporting me from the cages to the room where they…” she trailed off, shivering, “Anyway, I saw a barrel being unloaded. I thought it was Dante’s favorite wine and he always kept that for himself.”

“It’s okay, Clarke,” Bellamy ran a comforting hand down her back. She gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded.

“I only had one chance so I broke the bottle and dumped all the poison in the barrel.”

“It worked,” Bellamy guessed, but Clarke’s eyes snapped to his.

“It wasn’t wine. There was a big party that night for Dante’s birthday and _it wasn’t wine_.”

Clarke held Bellamy’s gaze and realization dawned on him. This was why Clarke was so full of grief. This was why she wasn’t sleeping or eating. She was being haunted by her demons. This was why the Grounders called her the Commander of Death. 

“I killed them all.”

Bellamy gulped, just as Clarke’s face broke. _“I killed them all, Bellamy. The people that helped me, women, children- innocents.”_

He grabbed her by the shoulders, hard. “Listen to me, Clarke. You did what you had to do to survive. Do you understand me? You did what you had to do, just like you always have.”

She was crying, but her eyes were alert, soaking up his words. “I’m a monster.”

“No,” he said harsh, leaning his forehead down onto hers, “You are not a monster, Clarke.”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, “I don’t deserve you, or Madi. I deserve to be punished.”

Bellamy kissed her once, harsh, chastising. It was so fast she wasn’t sure it had even happened. 

“You are the most deserving person I know, Clarke. You deserve to be loved, to be taken care of.”

She clawed at him to get closer and Bellamy held tight as she buried her face in his neck. He whispered non-sense to her, stroking her wet hair and promising he’d never leave her.

 

 

 

They woke Madi up sometime later. After the sun had started to go down and Clarke had cried herself out. The horseback ride home was silent, but not in an unpleasant way. Bellamy kept his eye on Clarke, ready to offer comfort again if she needed it.

“Your Majesty!” someone shouted, just as they were nearing the stables. Clarke jerked her body straight from where she had been braiding Madi’s hair on the back of the horse. 

“Come quick! It’s your mother.”

Confusion and then resentment filled her. She looked to Bellamy.

“Go,” he nodded, taking the reins of her horse. Clarke hopped off, giving Madi a quick kiss, and jogging after the castle servant.


	39. Chapter 39

She expected the boy to lead her to the dungeons, where Abby slept, but instead he ran into the ballroom.

Clarke had gotten used to seeing her mother in passing. Sometimes when Clarke was leaving the ballroom, Abby would just be getting there, escorted by knights with shackles around her ankles. What she had never seen was Abby _on_ one of the cots.

Marcus Kane was kneeling down on the ground, Abby’s hand cradled in his own.

“What happened to her?”

Kane looked up at Clarke’s arrival. “We don’t know, we think one of the patients poisoned her.”

As terrible as it was, that made sense. The people that found out who Abby was didn’t take kindly to having her treat them.

“Move over,” Clarke commanded, coming forward to check her mothers vitals. Her pulse was there, but slow. Abby looked frail, her greying hair thin, and cheekbones prominent. 

“Get Jackson here,” Clarke instructed, “Have him empty her stomach. If she ingested the poison then that should help. If not… we’ll just have to hope her body can fight it off." 

“You’re not going to do it yourself?” Kane asked.

Clarke stood, turning to one of the knights. “Go get Jackson, _now_. He should be downstairs in the medical chambers. Tell him what’s happened. He’ll need the proper supplies.”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Kane insisted, “Can’t you just do it yourself?”

She took a step away from the bed, from her mother. Clarke didn’t have the tubes necessary for that kind of procedure. Jackson would know what to do.

“Jackson will save her.”

Kane looked desperate, holding Abby’s hand, begging Clarke to help her. But Clarke couldn’t help Abby. Clarke wasn’t sure that she would even want to if she could. She hated herself for thinking that, but her mother had betrayed her, betrayed her father, and some things were unforgivable. Clarke didn’t want her mother to die-she didn’t want anyone to die- she just didn’t want to be the one to save her life.

 

 

Madi and Bellamy were in Madi’s room when she walked upstairs. Bellamy was reading her a story, the young girl’s eyes drooping closed.

He took one look at Clarke’s face and paused. “Is everything okay?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Nothing was okay. The only okay thing in Clarke’s life were the two people in front of her now.

“Clarke?” 

Her eyes flicked to Madi and Bellamy seemed to understand. Pulling his arm slowly out from under her head, Bellamy closed the book and gave Madi a kiss on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Madi."

She mumbled something unintelligible.

Clarke turned on her heel, out into the hallway, and Bellamy followed close behind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently when the door closed.

“It’s my mom.” 

“Is she okay?”

 Clarke shook her head, “No. No, I think, I think she’s dying.”

“What happened?”

“Poison.”

“Do you know who did it? Can you help her?”

Clarke took a shaky breath, “I didn’t do anything, Bellamy. I sent for Jackson, but I just… I didn’t do anything to help her.” 

He hadn’t expected that, and he could see the conflict written all of Clarke’s face. It didn't matter how he felt about the situation, he always seemed to understand Clarke's decisions. “She killed your father. She killed hundreds of people. She hurt you, Clarke. She hurt me. No one is going to blame you if-”

 “If she dies? You’re right. A lot of people would be glad to see her gone. That doesn’t make me any less of a monster.”

Bellamy grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes to his, “Stop saying you are a monster, Clarke. We have all done terrible things, but that doesn’t make us bad people.”

She stared at him with sad eyes. 

“You’re too good, Bellamy.” 

Her tears dripped onto his hand. Bellamy didn’t know what to say. How could he tell this woman that she was good too and make her believe it? 

Blinking long, Clarke took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’m going to go to my room.”

“I’ll walk you.”

They walked up the staircase is silence. For Clarke’s sake, he hoped Abby made it through the night. He didn’t know if Clarke would ever forgive herself if she didn’t.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.”

“Goodnight, Princess. Sleep well.” The old name had her lifting one side of her mouth.

“I rarely sleep these days.”

Bellamy had noticed the bags under her eyes; he’d just assumed they were from stress.

“Why?”

Clarke glanced inside the room at her ginormous bed. “I’m not used to sleeping on something so soft.”

Bellamy made a noise of understanding.

“Anyway, goodnight Bellamy. Thanks, again, for today.”

He wanted to say more, offer some type of advice or comfort, but Clarke just shut the door before he could.

 

 

Jackson came to her the next day. Abby was currently asleep, but he was hopeful. He had managed to empty her stomach and get some water into her. Also, her heart beat was back to normal. All they had to do now was wait for her to wake up. 

Clarke nodded as he was talking, but she didn't really feel anything at hearing the news. She didn't feel relief or guilt, just acceptance that her mother would live and she wouldn't be the reason she died.  

 

 

Clarke was surprised to see Raven in court. Raven never came unless it was a special occasion. Did she have a dispute? With her was a man Clarke had never seen before. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes. That must be Shaw.

 “Next?” Clarke called out to the room after she dismissed the man who needed help repairing a roof. 

Raven and Shaw stood up, making there way to the front. Clarke had begun sitting in the throne, even though she hadn’t been officially coordinated yet. For a while she stood, and then she spent some time sitting on the stairs when her legs got tired. In the end, she knew she couldn’t spend hours without sitting and it was just getting ridiculous, so she tentatively took the throne. It still felt foreign to her, but Clarke did what she could to put the people at ease when they stood in front of her.

“Raven,” Clarke smiled, “And?”

“Miles Shaw, Your Majesty,” the man bowed.

“What has brought you two before me today?”

Raven ran her hands together anxiously and Clarke’s stomach seemed to ring together as well. Why was she nervous?

“We’d like to ask your permission, Your Majesty,” Raven said softly.

“My permission for what?”

“We’d like your permission to get married, Your Majesty,” Shaw said for them both.

Clarke furrowed her brows, even though she immediately felt joy for them. Raven deserved this, to be happy.

“I’m a bit confused. You don’t need my permission to get married.”

Shaw and Raven exchanged a look.

Raven met Clarke’s eyes, “No, but we want your blessing and we would like you to perform the ceremony.”

 A moment of silence. 

“You have my blessing,” Clarke’s voice cracked, “It would be my honor to marry you.”

Raven beamed, bright and beautiful and Clarke returned it. “There is one more thing, Your Majesty.”

“Ask it,” Clarke said.

“Does your godchild have to call you Your Majesty or can they just call you Auntie Clarke?”

It took a few seconds for Clarke to comprehend the words. Godchild? Auntie Clarke? Once it clicked, she was out of the throne, running down the steps to meet Raven in an embrace. They held each other so tight it almost hurt.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered into Raven’s hair that smelled of iron and smoke.

“Auntie Clarke it is,” Raven laughed through tears.

 

 

 

 

The training grounds were a mess and Bellamy was angrily throwing things into their rightful place. Ever since the Grounders had shown up the grounds were being used almost constantly and it was starting to show. Maybe he should hire someone to clean up after everyone was done. Or he could just get the new recruits to do it. 

“Hey, brother!” Octavia called.

“Hey, O” he growled, shutting the armory door a little to hard.

“What’s got you all worked up?”

“This place is a mess. I tried cleaning it last night before I left, but I came back this morning and stuff was all over the place. Who the hell is here at night?”

Octavia snorted, jumping up onto the propped up saddle. “Blame Murphy.”

“Murphy? Why would I blame Murphy?” 

She was looking at him like he was dumb. “He’s the one who’s here every morning, isn’t he?”

“Why would Murphy be here every morning?”

Octavia’s eyes widened and she seemed to bite her lip. What was he missing here? 

“Never mind,” she said and immediately changed the subject. Bellamy tried to get her to tell him what she was hiding, but Octavia just ignored him and started talking about the trip her and Lincoln were planning. 

He’d just have to ask Murphy himself.

Eventually, it was Raven who let it slip. She, Shaw, Octavia, Lincoln, Miller, Harper, Monty and Bellamy were gathered around the training circle, watching Echo and another Grounder woman fight. Today, they were going to work on hand-to-hand combat and everyone was curious how brutal the Grounders were going to get. Many others had gathered around to watch too.

“Damn, she’s fast,” Monty commented, as Echo punched the other girl in the face and pulled back just as quickly. It was like watching a striking snake.

“The other girl is losing steam,” Miller said and Bellamy nodded in agreement. Echo was in better shape. She would win this match, even if she weren’t already the better fighter. 

“That’s something for us to work on- endurance,” Bellamy said.

Raven snorted, “Just have Clarke train them then.”

All eyes swung to her, but Octavia glanced at her brother, wincing.

“What are you talking about?” Bellamy asked. Octavia was over his shoulder, shaking her head at Raven to stop, but the other girl didn’t notice.

“You could just have them run around with Clarke every morning.” 

Now he was really confused. 

“Raven, what are you talking about?”

Glancing around at her friends’ pale faces, she started to realize she might’ve fucked up.

“Raven,” Bellamy repeated, harder this time. He didn’t like being kept in the dark.

“I saw Murphy and Clarke jogging one morning. They’ve started to do it everyday. Sometimes they run up and down flights of stairs for hours.”

This was definitely news to him. 

“Why?”

Raven shrugged, looking to her friends for help, but most of them were just openly wincing. Octavia had her face in her hands.

“O?” Bellamy turned, “What aren’t you telling me?”

She sighed, “Murphy said Clarke cant sleep so every morning they go running or to the training grounds.”

It made sense now, why the training grounds were a mess every morning and why Octavia had been so evasive earlier. Clarke was training with Murphy every day. His friends hadn’t wanted to tell him, because they knew he would be upset.

Bellamy tried to hide his hurt, but apparently wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Its nothing against you,” Raven said, “Murphy is just her guard.”

Bellamy nodded, empty. He used to be her guard. But when she’d asked, he’d said he wouldn’t train her. It was one of the things he regretted most.  

“Bell,” Octavia said, but he wasn’t having it.

“Its fine,” he snapped, “Clarke can do what she wants. I’m just happy she’s getting back into training.”

But he didn’t sound happy and he definitely didn’t feel happy. Jealousy, jealousy and hurt were the only two things he could feel right now.

 

 

Bellamy started to train with Echo more. Even when they weren’t doing drills or teaching the others, they were fighting. He needed to be moving- otherwise he was going to explode. Or worse, think about Clarke and Murphy sword fighting together. Echo was the perfect distraction. She was always up for a duel and her aggression usually matched his own. 

When Clarke would come to pick Madi up from the training grounds, he had a hard time meeting her eye. Instead, he would toss Echo a sword and get right into another sparring match.

Clarke watched from the other side of the fence, her blue eyes always turning a little colder when Bellamy would approach Echo, but she never said anything. Neither did he.

Their friends watched from a distancing, cringing.

 


	40. Chapter 40

Echo swung at his chest; he dodged easily and swung back. She blocked and Bellamy drew away to swing again, but a yellow dot in the background made him pause. When Echo noticed he wasn’t paying attention, she stopped and turned.

“Bellamy wha-?”

Clarke was walking towards the training grounds, arms swinging boldly. Maybe walking wasn’t the right word. Clarke was _storming_ down the hill and her knights were jogging behind her trying to catch up.

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was high in wonder.

She strode past them with a crisp, “Bellamy, Echo.”

At that moment, Madi came skidding around the corner of the barn, almost running into her mother.

“Mom?”

“Stay with Bellamy, Madi,” Clarke snapped and gently pushed the young girl in his direction. Madi’s eyes were wide with confusion and she took a few stumbling step towards Bellamy. His hand dropped heavy on her shoulder, steadying her.

Bellamy looked at Echo, bewildered. The same look was mirrored on her face.

“Bellamy, what’s going on?” Madi asked. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” he assured her, even though he had no idea if it was true.

Just then, they heard Clarke.

“The hell you playing at!” She sounded angry, her voice echoing throughout the grounds. The knights had finally caught up and were scampering around the corner, in search of their Queen. Bellamy pointed in the direction she had gone unhelpfully.

“You’re a deceitful prick, Roan!” Clarke continued.

It was news to Bellamy that Roan was even here, but he heard a muffled reply from a male voice.

“Madi!” Bellamy shouted as the little girl wiggled her way out of his grasp and towards the commotion. _Dammit_.

He jogged after her, cursing under his breath, with Echo hot on his heels. All he could see in the nearby training circle was the small group of royal guards clustered close, looking very tense. Madi squeezed her way through their legs, towards what he assumed was Clarke. 

As he drew closer, he got a better look at what was happening. Clarke was nose to nose with Roan, her finger pointed at his chest menacingly and he had both hands raised in protest.

“I swear, Clarke I had no idea.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes, “Just like you had no idea about the Mountain Men!”

He flinched and drew his eyebrows together. “You’re right, but I swear I had nothing to do with this.”

“Then why are you in my kingdom unannounced? I would’ve had no idea you were even here if my handmaiden hadn’t seen you arrive!”

“I was going to come see you right after this, Clarke,” he ran an angry hand through his long hair.

Between one moment and the next, Clarke wasn’t close to Roan anymore. All Bellamy saw was a brown flash of hair and the glint of a sword. The knights started shouting and he pushed his way into the circle, stopping cold.

Echo had Clarke against her chest, sword placed dangerously against the Queen’s throat. He hadn’t even seen her move.

“Echo, let her go!”

“She threatened my King,” the Grounder hissed, pressing the blade harder. For having a sharp object dangerously close to her throat, Clarke looked relatively calm.

“Echo,” Roan barked and the tall woman’s eyes jumped to him, “Let her go.”

By this point, all of the knights had drawn their swords, ready to take action. But they waited to attack, scared that sudden movement would cause the riled up Grounder to do something serious. Like kill Clarke.

Echo growled at Roan, not liking the order.

“Echo,” he warned, taking a step forward to coax her down, but Bellamy recognized a familiar look in Clarke’s eye. Determination. _Don’t do anything stupid Clarke,_ he thought, trying to freeze her with his eyes. But who the hell was he kidding? This was Clarke.

She grabbed Echo’s wrist, the one holding the sword, and pushed it away forcefully. Echo was caught off guard long enough for the blade to leave Clarke’s throat and Clarke dropped to the ground with a grunt, rolling away. Recovered from the surprise, Echo brought her sword above her head to slice it down viciously at the small blonde woman. She faintly heard shouting and her name being called, but all she could see was a girl who had threatened her king. 

Clarke managed to roll onto her back, just in time to see Echo bring the sword above her head with both hands. _Shit_. She didn’t have time to get away from the strike. Not knowing what else to do, Clarke braced her elbows in the dirt and kicked both legs up into Echo’s stomach, like a donkey. She landed the kick solidly, surprising even herself.

“Ooof.” The air was knocked out of her. And then Bellamy was there, his own sword drawn, completely swiping the sword from Echo’s hand and grabbing her around the waist with his free arm. The royal knights moved in on Echo.

“Don’t!” Clarke shouted.

“Your Majesty, she just threatened to kill you.”

It was their duty to protect Clarke, to stop anyone who would do her harm. Echo had just proven herself a threat.

“Don’t hurt her, she was just protecting Roan.” The knights were confused, but did as they were told and stepped away. 

“Clarke, are you okay?” Bellamy asked, positioning himself so that he was in between the two women.

“I’m fine,” she snapped and Bellamy jerked back as if stung. Why was she mad at him?  

“I am so sorry, Clarke,” Roan muttered as he grabbed Echo on the upper arm and hauled her a few feet away. “Sometimes Echo gets a little, _enthusiastic._ ” 

“I’m fine. What I would like to know is why you are here?”

Roan’s face slowly transformed into a smug smile, “I brought you a present.” 

“A present?” Clarke said, dry. He grinned at her, nodding and reached to the small of his back. Bellamy couldn’t quite tell what it was at first, but Clarke gasped when she saw the shiny metal object. _It was her sword._  

“Oh my god!” she cried, running forward. Roan looked smugger than before, as he handed it over. It was like the past five minutes hadn’t even happened, like Echo hadn’t just threatened Clarke’s life. But Bellamy was still very much on edge and his eyes were glued to the small trickle of blood on Clarke’s neck from Echo’s sword. 

“Where did you find it?”

The weapon was light in her palms, lighter than a normal sword. She hadn’t seen it for years, but it still felt familiar.

“We were traveling through Polis one day and I saw that knight…” Clarke jerked her head up, a suddenly dark look passing over her face. The horrible memory of the royal knight resurfaced in her brain, and she glanced around quickly for her daughter. The young girl was near Bellamy, eyes wide in curiosity. Clarke had no idea if Madi even remembered Sir Emerson- she prayed she didn’t.

“I took it from him,” Roan said, no longer smiling. 

“Is he dead?”

Roan nodded solemnly and Clarke let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding. The man who had hurt her, had hurt _Madi_ , was dead.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome," Roan took a step back into the training circle, drawing his own sword and waggling his eyebrows, "So what do you say?” 

Bellamy didn’t like where this was going.

“What?” Clarke asked dumbly.

“Want to spar? Like old times?”

Clarke couldn’t help it, she snorted. “I’m not sure I would call trying to kill each other _sparring_.”

Roan shrugged, unperturbed. Clarke seemed to think about it a moment. Eventually, she nodded, earning a wolfish grin from the Grounder.

Bellamy watched as Clarke spun her custom sword around, loosening her wrist and getting used to the feel again. He knew she had been practicing her sword work again, but he didn’t think sparring with a Grounder was really the best idea. Who was he to stop her?

Mostly, he didn’t like the way Roan was looking at Clarke. It was predatory and challenging and made Bellamy grit his teeth. Roan seemed to feel Bellamy staring at him, because he caught his eye over Clarke’s shoulder and winked. _He winked._ White hot rage filled Bellamy and he balled his fists. _What a smug, asshole, son of a-_

Clarke followed Roan further into the training circle, not noticing the wink. Her knights took the cue and stepped away. Echo was muttering something under her breath and glaring daggers at the Queen, but she stepped back as well. Bellamy unhappily followed suit, dragging Madi back with him.

This was not going to end well.

 

  

Clarke hadn’t been this excited in a long time. Sure, training with Murphy was fun and he didn’t go easy on her, but this felt more real. She had something to prove here, in front of all the Grounders that had gathered to watch their King and the Queen of Ark Kingdom fight. In front of her knights that didn’t think she could protect herself. In front of her daughter, who had never really seen her mother fight or wasn't old enough to remember. And mostly, in front of Bellamy, who had taught her everything she knew but refused train her as a woman. Yeah, she had to kick Roan’s ass. 

They were in the middle of the training circle now, Roan warming up his shoulder with a few dangerous looking swings. She had seen him fight before, witnessed it first hand actually. He was strong and agile, but also rash. She would have to be smarter than him if she wanted to win. 

Clarke leaned down, sliding the knife out from her ankle holder and grasped her skirts. 

“So what are the rules?” she asked, her head still facing the ground.

“Well first of all, no knives.”

Clarke brought her head up, blowing a stray strand out of her face, and gave Roan an amused look.

He watched with wide eyes as she positioned the knife near her waist and drug downward, slicing right through the skirts of her dress. It took her a few tugs to get through the multiple layers, but by the time she was done, a slit had been cut all the way up her thigh, revealing a single bare leg. If you were close enough, the scars were visible for all to see. 

Clarke moved back and forth on the balls of her feet a few times, enjoying the freedom her legs now had. Getting caught stumbling because of the fabric could cost her a victory, not to mention her pride.

Clarke sheathed the knife again and smirked. “Why? Scared?”

“Absolutely,” Roan said, unashamed, “I’ve seen how tricky you can get with those things.”

Clarke giggled, picking her sword back up from the ground. Slowly, her smile faded. Roan was warmed up and she was as ready as she was ever going to get.

“First to draw blood?” she asked.

“No, first to surrender.” Clarke agreed and almost instantly the humor between them was gone, replaced by nerves and aggression.

 

 

Bellamy’s mouth had dropped when Clarke pulled out the knife and sliced her dress. An entire leg was now bare to the world and he could not believe his eyes. The Clarke he saw before him was not the Queen he had gotten used to in the past month. This Clarke was fiery and bold and so much like the Princess he once knew. But then she had giggled and Bellamy practically threw up. She was _flirting_ with Roan. Roan was making her laugh and Bellamy felt nothing but pure, thick, jealousy. He wanted to be the one out in that training circle, throwing barbs and making her smile, sparring with her.

Bellamy met Murphy’s eyes and they shared a concerned look. Neither liked what was going on.

It started quickly, almost between one moment and the next. Clarke had agreed to fighting until surrender, lifted her sword a little higher, and then Roan was attacking. Bellamy wanted to shout for Clarke to watch out, but there was no need. She had seen it coming and sidestepped quickly to avoid Roan’s first strike. The Grounder seemed unbothered and continued his vicious charge. Each time, though, Clarke evaded. She ducked and swerved, jumped to the side, and leaned back. His sword never touched her and hers hadn’t even risen above her waist. Taking a break, Roan stepped back, his chest heaving with exertion.

At that moment, two bodies slid up next to Bellamy. He looked over, startled to see Echo had moved from the other side of the circle to his shoulder. The image of her sword against Clarke’s throat popped into his head and he took a step away, disgusted. On his other side, Octavia appeared.

“What the hell is going on here?” she whispered, looking around the circle, but Bellamy had no explanation and it must’ve shown on his face. 

“Everyone in the castle is on their way here, Bellamy. They all heard the Queen was fighting a Grounder. I didn’t think it was actually true.”

Bellamy gulped, but nodded, his gaze returning to the fighters.

“You going to actually pick up your sword, Clarke, or just keep dancing around?” Roan’s voice was gruff, full of frustration.

Clarke shrugged nonchalantly. “Why bother? Your aim is obviously shit.”

Octavia drew in a harsh breath and the Grounders who had gathered to watch stiffened. What the fuck was she thinking?

The insult made Roan’s eyes grow dark and he growled, literally growled, as he advanced once more. The next strike was much faster than the others and Clarke had to actually raise her sword to block it. The resounding clink of metal meeting metal echoed throughout the grounds. They paused, allowing the sound to reverberate. Clarke drew her sword downward to slide his off and arced back upward in one smooth motion, barely missing Roan’s chin.

The fight was on.

They exchanged strikes, over and over, neither really having the advantage. Roan was slow on defense, which Clarke quickly picked up on. She managed to fake him out twice and landed a hit to his shoulder and one to his ribs. But her sword was smaller and made half the impact a regular sword would’ve. Roan was stronger than Clarke and his form was better. Each time his sword hit hers, Bellamy cringed, but Clarke managed to hold him off, using both her hands on the sword pommel and gritting her teeth to keep his strikes from landing. Eventually, they both stepped back to catch their breath.

“That’s more like it, Wanheda,” Roan smirked, twirling his sword around cockily, and Bellamy watched Clarke’s shoulders stiffen.

“I told you not to call me that.”  

Roan smiled arrogantly. “I know.”

Clarke took step forward and Roan immediately responded, raising his sword to defend himself, but she paused. He was goading her, the same way she had goaded him. _Don’t be stupid, Clarke,_ she thought to herself. _Be smart._ _Don’t take the bait._  

Changing course, she started mimicking the twirling Roan was doing with his sword, trying to look calm and confident.

“Does it bother you, Roan?” she asked sweetly and he blinked, not understanding. “That they call me Wanheda? Your own people think I am the Commander of Death and yet, they won’t even call you Heda.”

“Clarke…” Bellamy warned under his breath. It was too quite for her to hear, but the people around him were close enough. Octavia gave him a weird look, but all Bellamy's focus was on Clarke and her big, stupid mouth. The Queen was playing a dangerous game, one that could cost her her life.

Fury passed over the Grounder King’s face, but it only seemed to encourage Clarke.

“Your people think I am more powerful than you. _Me, a stupid little girl. A blonde haired, blue eyed, spoiled little princess._ Stronger than you,” she pointed her sword at his chest. “Must be so embarrassing.” 

The response was immediate. Roan charged forward, an angry cry erupting from his throat. Now, he had something to prove too.

His swings were harder than before, full of rage, and Clarke had a tougher time avoiding them, but she knew she just had to hold him off for a little while longer. Roan would tire from attacking so aggressively and that would be her chance.

After a few minutes, his sword began to hit hers with less force and Clarke took that as a good sign. She began encroaching on him, swinging swiftly at his chest and neck at every opportunity. Roan grunted and managed to narrowly avoid each swipe. But, they were both slowing down and Clarke knew Roan had more endurance. She had to end this now somehow; otherwise, he was going to outlast her.

Clarke took a step backwards, letting Roan go on the offensive once more. There was a dangerous look in his eye, like he knew he was going to win.

_Not a chance_ , she thought, determined. 

She tracked his movements, trying to gauge where he was going to target next. One swing was aimed for her left shoulder- she blocked it. The next was aimed at her right upper arm- she blocked it. Roan pulled back to swing dangerously at her ribs and Clarke anticipated the strike early. She rose to block, but at the last moment, lifted her arms, allowing the sword to land in her side.

Roan made a sound of disbelief and stumbled to readjust at the last minute, trying to keep the hit from being deadly. The blow smacked the breath right out of Clarke, but she had expected it, and Roan was the one truly off balance. 

Ignoring the pain in her side, Clarke grasped her sword pommel hard and smashed the butt end of it into Roan’s temple.

“ _Aggghh_!” he cried.

Caught off guard- and still in shock he had struck her- Roan teetered backwards. Clarke advanced, kicking the sword from his loose grip and using her free hand to clobber him in the jaw. The Grounder staggered, finally falling onto his back.

There was a ringing in his ear and Roan shook his head to clear it, frantically searching for his sword through clouded vision. He spotted it a few feet away and lunged, but then a foot was there, keeping it pinned to the ground.

 

Bellamy watched in awe as Clarke clicked her tongue at Roan, warning him not to make another go at grabbing the sword. The Grounder jerked his head up to growl something nasty, but stopped. Clarke was on her feet above him, sword pointed at eye level, hair blowing in the wind, blood dripping down her side- looking incredibly badass.

Roan twitched, wanting to swipe the sword from under her, but Clarke took a step forward pushing her weapon nearly against his nose and forcing him to scramble backwards. 

Clarke had won. 

Roan gulped, chancing a look at the people around him. There were Grounders, knights, servants, even a few nobles gathered tightly around the training circle. And all of them were looking at Clarke like she was a goddess. Even the Grounders looked impressed, respect shining in their eyes.

Begrudgingly, Roan took a deep breath and dipped his chin. “Good fight, Wanheda. Trust the Commander of Death to win by intentionally letting me draw blood.” 

Clarke didn’t bristle at the name; in fact it seemed to empower her more. Slowly, she lowered her sword. 

“Well, I didn’t get that name by fighting conventionally, did I?”

Roan chuckled, “No, no you didn’t.”

Clarke held out a hand and he graciously took it, allowing her to help him up. Smirking, she leaned down to pick up his sword and hand it back. Roan shook his head, trying not to look embarrassed and sheathed it in his waist.

And then Madi was there, jumping into Clarke’s arms. “Oh my god, Mom! That was so cool! I didn’t know you knew how to do that!” 

Clarke laughed, running her hand through Madi’s curls and opened her mouth to reply but a deep yell cut her off. 

“ _What the hell was that?”_

She looked around, perplexed, until her eyes landed on a tall man striding forward, brown eyes hot with rage. It had been a while since she had seen Bellamy so angry.

“What were you thinking, Clarke?” Bellamy barked, coming to stand right in front of her. “You let him hit you on purpose!”

Clarke glanced down at her side. A wide patch of blood was seeping through her corset and she could feel some of it dripping down her legs. _Ouch._ She hadn’t noticed how deep the cut was during the fight, too full of adrenaline, but the pain was clear as day now. 

Bellamy reached down to press on the wound, but stopped himself. He didn’t know if Clarke would even let him touch her.

She pretended to ignore his extended hand and wrapped an arm around herself instead.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Bellamy was still viciously angry.

“I won, didn’t I?” Clarke snapped. 

“If he hadn’t slowed his swing, you could’ve been dead!” 

“Bellamy, I’m fine.” Clarke was growing angry now. Why was he _yelling_ at her? It’s not like the wound wouldn’t heal.

“Clarke-” 

“ _Enough_ , Sir Blake. I am fine and you would be wise to watch how you’re addressing me.”

Brown eyes stared unwaveringly into her blue. Clarke rarely pulled the Queen card, but the threat was obvious. Bellamy’s jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as the people around them quieted. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said darkly.

They continued to stare at one another, both fuming for entirely different reasons. How dare she endanger her life so recklessly? How dare he be mad at her for doing what she had to do to win?

It was Madi who diffused the tension.

“Mom, are you okay?” she tugged on Clarke’s torn dress.

Clarke peeled her eyes away from Bellamy to look down at her daughter and give a reassuring smile, “I’m fine, baby.”

Holding tight to her side, she crouched down, bringing herself to the child’s eye level.

“Did you really let him hurt you on purpose?”

“I did,” Clarke admitted, glancing up at Bellamy. He was glaring at her, hands fisted and jaw ticking. “But this is a good lesson, Madi.”

“ _A lesson_?”

She couldn’t be serious. Clarke was going to make her reckless decision into a learning moment for their daughter?

Watching the freckled knight out of the corner of her eye, she spoke to Madi, “Sometimes, the only way to win is to sacrifice something important.”

Madi nodded seriously, absorbing her mother’s words. They had lived a dangerous life before coming to the castle and she understood the importance of Clarke’s lessons. 

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Clarke suggested, taking Madi’s hand. She stood but immediately grunted as pain shot through her torso. Bellamy’s eyes flared.

The pair walked slowly through the training circle and Clarke stopped at her sword lying on the ground. Leaning down was going to hurt, but then Bellamy was there, scooping it up. He handed it over with a knowingly smug look and she yanked it away without thanks.

They were almost out of the grounds, Bellamy’s breath practically hot on her neck, when Clarke remembered why she had come here in the first place. She turned, her nose bumping into Bellamy’s chest and forcing him to take a step back.

“Roan!” she called. He looked up from where he was talking to a group of Grounders. “I am holding court in three days. I expect you to be there with an explanation as to why you are really in my kingdom.”

Roan’s face paled, but Clarke just turned away, hauling Madi up the grassy hill and towards the castle.

“Can I stitch it up for you?” Madi begged five minutes into the walk, making Clarke laugh.

“We’ll see. I’m not sure it’s deep enough for stitches.”

Bellamy snorted, identifying the lie. Clarke ignored him completely, talking only to Madi the entire walk home.


	41. Chapter 41

As it turned out, her cut did need stitches. It was nearly an inch and a half deep and ten inches long. She allowed Madi to help her with pouring alcohol over the cut and cleaning the needle. Using the mirror, Clarke managed to stitch up almost the entire thing but had a hard time reaching the part of the gash just under her armpit. The angle was all wrong and she couldn’t twist and use the needle at the same time. 

“Madi,” she growled, frustrated, “can you go get Bellamy please?”

The young girl smiled and slipped out to retrieve the knight. Clarke couldn’t imagine he had gone far. After stalking behind them the entire way home, Clarke had told him to get lost so she could take care of her wound. He had grumbled something about waiting outside. 

Bellamy entered quietly, looking almost shy, with Madi on his heels. Clarke was seated on the medical table, her dress and corset pooled at her lap and underdress pulled up on her shoulders. She wasn’t revealing anything too scandalous, just a bare stomach, but she felt vulnerable nonetheless.

“I need help,” she admitted, unable to meet his eyes. Bellamy stepped further into the room, setting down his sword and belt and coming to stand in front of her. Clarke lifted her arm to show the dilemma. He stared at it a while, analyzing, before holding a hand out for the needle and thread. 

“It’ll be easier if you lay down,” Bellamy’s voice rumbled. She nodded, shifting onto her side and positioning her arm over her ear.

His breath warm on her skin as he leaned down and Clarke shivered. It was impossible to tell how he was feeling by the look on his face. But, he didn’t seem angry anymore.

She wasn't angry anymore either. 

Bellamy was took his time with the stitches, keeping an eye on Clarke in his peripherals to make sure he wasn’t hurting her too much. She kept her eyes closed while he worked, pain only evident by a slight line between her brows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment. Her eyes popped open, but Bellamy’s face was hidden under the mop of dark curls. She watched him, trying not to be obvious about it. The concentrated scowl of his mouth was so familiar to Madi’s, it made her heart clench. 

“I know it was stupid,” Clarke admitted finally, and Bellamy paused to look up at her. “He was going to outlast me if I didn’t do something. I had no choice.” 

“You could’ve let him win.”

But even saying it out loud, Bellamy knew that was never a possibility for Clarke. They shared a knowing look, a smile, and Bellamy shook his head. God, she was stubborn.

He leaned back down with the needle, sobering, and whispered, “If you’d been more hurt, I would’ve killed him.”

The seriousness in his voice made her freeze, but he kept working, pulling out a knife to cut the string and tie it off. She tried to ignore how soft his fingers felt moving along her ribs and the chill his words had sent up her spine. Bellamy wasn’t her knight anymore, but his loyalty remained. Bellamy was hers, always.

She gulped, unsure what to say next, “He wasn’t going to kill me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I knew he was going to slow down.”

“No, you got lucky,” he snapped.

She lifted up off the table, the corset falling to the floor. “I did what I had to do.”

As she moved, his gaze zoned in on her middle. The attention made Clarke shift uncomfortably and Bellamy jerked his eyes away, realizing he was staring. Her chest was covered, so what was he looking at?

“Here you go,” Madi singsonged, coming out of the back room with bandages and a salve. She handed them over to Bellamy before Clarke could protest and skipped away to go rummage through Clarke’s vials of medicine.

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged a glance before he opened the container of ointment to scoop some out. A blush rushed to Clarke’s cheeks and she quickly turned her head to hide it. There was no reason she couldn’t be doing this herself. But something about the way Bellamy was looking at her made her not want to argue. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to be cared for. And Bellamy seemed to want to do it.

Clarke hissed when the cold goo hit her skin, earning a whispered apology from Bellamy. He rubbed it in gently and Clarke’s blush only deepened.

 

 

 

Bellamy was trying very hard to focus on smearing the green salve on Clarke’s wound and not the way her breathing had quickened. Or how he could smell her lavender shampoo mixed with sweat from her fight. Thankfully, she had turned her face away and he was grateful for the lack of eye contact. It already felt way too intimate.

Bellamy would be the first one to admit he spent more time than necessary applying the medicine, but his hand was like magnet to her skin and he couldn’t help himself.

He reached for the bandages, and Clarke obliged, lifting both her hands in the air so he could wrap them around her torso.

The image of Clarke with a wrap around her chest, kneeling next to his bathtub, blood trailing down her side, long hair a mess popped into his head. It felt like just yesterday they had been hiding from her mother’s assassins. Just yesterday she had kissed him and then apologized. Just yesterday when he told her he loved her and then she was drug away, out of his life forever…

Bellamy snapped out of it when Clarke squeaked. He had been wrapping the bandages too tight. 

“Shit, sorry,” he said, unwrapping a few layers, and she just gave him a tight smile.

His eyes traveled down to her stomach, and nausea hit him. Earlier, she had caught him staring, which was incredibly embarrassing, but her ribs were so prominent he just couldn’t look away. Why wasn’t she eating? Her body was as thin, if not thinner, than the day she had returned home. All the running she was doing with Murphy wasn't helping her to gain any weight either. 

“I think I’m all done.”

He tied off the end of the bandage and Clarke looked down to inspect his work. 

“Looks good to me, thanks.”

She hopped off the table, pulling her dress up as she went. The corset from her lap flopped to the floor and Clarke reached to grab it, stiff from the tight bandages.

She fled the room, trying to ignore the hole Bellamy's eyes were burning into her back. 

 


	42. Chapter 42

Bellamy, Madi, and Clarke were seated at the table eating dinner in silence. Madi was tired from a day of horseback riding, her head lolling already, and Bellamy and Clarke were still barely talking. After Clarke’s fight with Roan, and him patching her up afterwards, they had barely spoken.

So, it was a surprise when she was the first one to speak. What she had to say was even more surprising.

“Roan asked me to marry him today.”

“What?” Bellamy squawked, dropping his spoon. She nodded, eyes trained on the center of her soup.

Madi immediately perked up.

“Are you going to do it?”

Shrugging, Clarke brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

Bellamy wasn’t hungry any longer. In fact, he felt sick. The thought of Clarke marrying Roan made him wildly, unreasonably, upset.

“That’s why he came to the castle,” Bellamy realized and Clarke just grimaced in acknowledgement.

The rest of dinner was spent in the same silence it had started. Except now Madi was the only one eating her food. By the end she was practically asleep in her bowl.

Clarke scooped the child up, making her way towards the tower stairs. It had become a routine. The three of them would have dinner together, put Madi to bed, usually Bellamy would tell a story or two and then they would take turns kissing her goodnight. It was sweet and domestic, and Clarke loved it. Tonight, with Roan’s proposal looming over them, it didn’t feel so sweet.

The entire way to Madi’s bedroom Bellamy tried to figure out what to say to Clarke- if he should even say anything at all. How could he tell her how he felt about Roan without seeming like a jealous idiot? 

They tucked Madi into bed, kissed her, and Clarke went to open the window so the room wouldn’t get too hot. When she stepped back, Bellamy was staring at her.

“Are you going to marry him?” he asked quietly, voice strained. It was direct and completely unexpected after days of them walking on eggshells around each other. 

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly.

“Clarke,” he took a step forward into her space, voice earnest, “For once, _please_ be selfish.”

“What?”

“Don’t think about what’s best for the kingdom or what your people would want you to do. Clarke, for once make a decision based on what _you_ want.” 

She tried to ignore the freckles that smattered his face, and his crazy head of curls, and his begging brown eyes. But it didn’t work. Bellamy was beautiful and kind and loyal and he was asking her to be… selfish?

Slowly, his words began to make sense. The only reason Clarke was even considering marrying Roan was because it would be good for the kingdom. How long had it been since she had chosen something just because she’d wanted it?

“Marrying Roan would be the perfect way to unite the Grounders and the Ark,” she reasoned out loud, shifting from foot to foot.

Bellamy nodded, “It would.”

In a flash, he was inches away, eyes searching her face. “Do you want to marry him?” 

That really was the question, wasn’t it?

“No.”

Bellamy let out a breath. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear her say it until she had. Clarke didn’t want to marry Roan.

Feeling suddenly empowered by her own honesty, Clarke lifted her chin, “What do _you_ want?”

The question made him stiffen. The answer was so obvious in his mind. Her, he wanted her. But saying it out loud would change things and he and Clarke were already on shaky ground. He couldn’t risk ruining the tentative friendship they were barely maintaining. Plus, who knew if she even wanted him back.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

He stepped back to leave the room. Avoiding this conversation seemed to be the only good option.

But, Clarke wasn’t letting him off the hook. Bellamy had put her on the spot, now it was his turn. She followed him out, shutting Madi’s door as quietly as possible.

By the time she turned around, Bellamy was already near the stairs. Two knights had arrived for their shift outside Madi’s door, Murphy and another man she didn’t recognize, and she had to elbow her way around them. 

“Bellamy Blake,” she snapped, stopping him in his tracks. Hell, if she was going to let him run away without answering.

Turning slowly, his eyes met hers. They were begging, pleading her to let him go and forget this conversation had even happened.

“Do you want Echo?” she asked, blunt.

“No,” he answered without hesitation.

 A moment passed. Clarke’s chest was heaving and Bellamy followed the movement with his eyes. Slowly, his gaze flicked back to hers.

“So, what _do_ you want?”

Escape was just behind him, down the steps, and Bellamy looked over his shoulder desperate to flee. He didn’t want to answer her for many reasons. Clarke was skittish with love, and rightly so, but Bellamy refused to lie to her about his feelings. He worried that telling her the truth would send her running in the other direction and with her, Madi. He worried that Clarke wouldn’t feel the same way about him after years apart. He worried that her past and the time she spent alone had broken her, convinced her she wasn’t good enough to be loved. He worried that telling her he loved her would ruin them forever. 

Clarke took an aggressive step forward, drawing his attention and the look on her face rattled him. She was vulnerable, her eyes wide and full of unshed tears, hands holding herself together at the waist.

If he left now, he realized, it would break her. This wasn’t about saving their friendship; it was about her needing him to be honest and open.

This was the moment, his chance to lay it all out on the line.

“You have to know.”

“Tell me,” she said it like a challenge, but then he didn’t reply and her voice broke, “ _Please_.”

 Clarke needed to hear him say it. After 6 years alone, raising a child, fighting for her life, then coming back to a castle and feeling lonelier than ever before, she needed to hear him say it.

“I want you.”

He watched tears fall from her eyes, but she didn’t respond, and Bellamy wondered if he had completely misread the situation.

Clarke stomped forward and Bellamy held his hands up in surrender, afraid she was angry.

“Close your eyes, Murphy,” she growled as she passed the knights.

Then, she was in front of him, grabbing ahold of his shirt, tugging him down, and springing upward, mouth driving into his.

Bellamy responded instantly, one hand burying itself in her hair and the other grabbing her waist. Her lips were hard on his, demanding, and he yanked her closer, meeting her passion with his own. They stumbled back into the wall and Clarke groaned at the feel of his hard chest pressed against hers. The sound made Bellamy’s hand clench.

“Its about fucking time!” Murphy cried, throwing his hands into the air.

Bellamy pulled back, their mouths making a popping sound as they parted. He looked ready to murder someone, but Clarke just smiled, eyes closed and forehead resting against his jaw.

“Murphy,” she said, keeping Bellamy pushed against the wall, “If you or any of the other knights so much as think about stepping foot on the top floor tonight, I will have you tied to a horse by your toes and let Madi drag you around the grounds for weeks. Do you understand?”

There was a small silence, and then a muttered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Clarke chuckled and lifted her head, but Bellamy was already looking down at her, eyes full of heat. A burning started low in her belly.

Not wanting to wait another moment, Clarke grabbed his hand, intending to drag him to the top floor as fast as she could.

 

 


	43. Chapter 43

Halfway up the stairs, Bellamy pulled on her and she turned just in time to be trapped against the wall. Their kisses were hot and messy and had Clarke panting. He moved to her neck, tongue wet and teeth pinching, and his hands found their way to the back of her thighs. Clarke jumped, wrapping around him, and moaned as he settled hard between her legs. 

“Bell.”

“I got you,” he rasped, hips rocking into hers.

“Bellamy, please,” she whimpered, and he pulled back, startled. Her mouth was red and swollen from their kissing, he could see wet spots from where he had worked her neck, and her entire body was practically trembling in his arms.

“It’s been so long,” she whispered, desperately arching forward for more friction.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pressing into her one last time before pulling them off the wall.

He carried her the rest of the way up the stairs, trying to focus on his feet and not the way Clarke was nibbling at his ear and making unbearable little sounds.

As soon as they were in the room, he had her up against the door. She moaned brokenly, her hands scrabbling to get his shirt off. With a little adjusting, they managed to get it off and shuck down his pants, but Clarke’s dress was another story.

He dropped her legs, quickly turning her and ripping at the bodice. Clarke braced her hands on the wall, urging him to hurry.

Bellamy eventually gave up, growling, and reaching for his knife. He sliced through the back of the corset, making quick work of pushing the dress away and spinning her back around. Finally, there was nothing between them.

Their mouths met again, all tongue and teeth.

The back of Bellamy’s knees hit the bed and Clarke pushed him flat. She was on top of him almost instantly, grinding down, her desperation obvious.

Bellamy pushed her off, twisting to flattening her against the bed with his body. He ran his mouth down her neck, to her collarbone, sucking gently on one of her nipples while he played with the other.

“Fuck,” she moaned.

Continuing his path downward, he licked at her navel, the inside of her thighs, and finally settled between her legs. When he looked up, Clarke’s eyes met his, lips parted, hands clenched in the sheets at the feel of his hot breath on her cunt. Bellamy lowered his chin, keeping his eyes on her, and flattened his tongue, giving her one long lick.

Clarke let out a guttural moan.

“You taste so good, Princess.”

He continued licking, each stroke hard and drawn out. She was moaning wildly and Bellamy knew she needed more, but he was enjoying watching her writhe.

“Bell, please.”

He chuckled with his mouth still on her and she gasped. But he obliged, flicking his tongue on her clit relentlessly. Slowly, he inserted two fingers and had to hold her down with his other hand to keep her in place.

She was coming apart after a few measured thrusts of his fingers. Bellamy worked her through it, slowing down the pace, but keeping pressure on her clit. She let out a little whimper and Bellamy rose to his elbows, his face covered in her juices and mouth red.

The orgasm had made her body feel like jelly, but Bellamy was above her, smirking and looking smug. So Clarke grabbed him, flipping them once more. She lined herself up and sunk down on him before he even had a chance to process.

“Oh god,” he stuttered.

For a moment, he saw stars and Clarke cried out as he completely filled her.

Now in control, Clarke rode him, bouncing up and down fervently. Bellamy was lost in the sensations as Clarke’s tight, wet, walls clenched around him.

This was about to be over far too fast. Bellamy grabbed her hips in attempt to slow her down.

“We have all night, Clarke,” he whispered, guiding her hips gently.

“You just feel so good, Bell.” 

“So do you, Princess. You’re taking me so well.”

“I want to feel you forever.”

“You can, Princess. I’ll fuck you forever. That what you want?” 

She nodded, allowing him to pull on her hips so they were moving together. The pressure started to build in her again, slower than before.

Bellamy pulled her down to him, kissing her as he moved his pelvis to thrust up into her. Clarke moaned against his mouth, digging her hands into his hair painfully. 

Sensing she was close, Bellamy brought a hand between them, rubbing her.

“Bellamy,” she whined.

“It’s alright, Clarke, let go.”

“Ohhh,” she cried, shattering. Bellamy followed a moment after, jerking his hips up hard and fast. Her cunt pulsed around him and for a second he thought he might pass out.

He pumped into her a few more times, unable to stop. Clarke slumped over on his chest, sweaty and out of breath. Gently, Bellamy withdrew and Clarke rolled off of him, running a hand through her hair. 

“Murphy is going to tell everyone.” 

Bellamy swung his head to her, “Can we please not talk about Murphy right now?”

Clarke snorted. “Sorry.”

“Do you not want anyone to know?”

Bellamy hated how delicate he sounded. If Clarke didn’t want to tell anyone, he could keep a secret. But did that mean that this was just a one-time thing? Or maybe it was just about the sex for her.

“I don’t want _Murphy_ telling anyone. But no, I don’t care. Everyone already knows I love you.” 

Bellamy’s jaw twitched. Clarke loved him. She’d loved him six years ago too, but this was different. They weren’t in the middle of a crisis. Their future wasn’t in danger. Clarke loved him and they had their entire lives to figure out what the hell that meant.

“Everyone knows I love you too.”

She leaned forward to kiss him, soft and sweet. When she pulled back, Bellamy kept his eyes closed, savoring the moment. They dozed for a little while, tired from the lovemaking.

A while later Bellamy turned over, intending to gather Clarke against his chest and really fall asleep, but when he opened his eyes she was just staring at the ceiling with a blank look on her face.

“You're not going to sleep?”

She smiled small and flicked her eyes to him. “I don’t think I can.”

Bellamy recalled the time she told him the bed was too soft. Without warning, he popped out of bed, dragging a heap of blankets and pillows with him.

“What are you doing?” Clarke cried as she scrambled to move so she wasn’t drug off the bed with the sheets.

Unceremoniously, Bellamy threw the blankets down on the ground, flattening them and putting all the pillows on one side.

“There.” 

Clarke was looking at him like he was crazy. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“C’mon, Your Majesty. Lay down,” he pointed at the floor.

She just sat there dumbly.

“Don’t make me pick you up and put you on the ground.”

Heat tingled through her at the idea, but Bellamy just raised a brow.

Skeptical, Clarke climbed off the mattress, lying down on the makeshift bed Bellamy had created. He plopped down next to her, adjusting the pillows under his head and throwing the blankets over them both. 

“Better?” he asked, when they were settled. The floor was hard underneath them, but the blankets provided some padding and warmth. It was far more similar to the leaves Clarke was used to sleeping on.

“Better,” she said, “Won’t your back hurt in the morning?” 

“Probably, but if it means you actually sleep then its worth it.” Bellamy reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Will you do me a favor, Clarke?”

“Sure.” Her lids were falling shut, heavy with exhaustion. Why hadn’t she thought of sleeping on the floor earlier? 

“You have to start taking care of yourself.”

Her eyes flew open. What did that mean? 

His hands were soft as they ran down her arm, settling on the curve of her hip.

“You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You work too much and eventually, you’re going to fall and you won’t be able to get back up.”

The words were harsh, but necessary, and Clarke could see the worry in his eyes. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t sleep. She tried to eat, but usually something called her attention away and would end up forgetting. Her priorities had been Ark Kingdom and Madi and she'd left little time for herself. 

“I’ll try,” Clarke promised.

“Good,” he kissed her soft, “I can’t lose you again.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Princess.”

Clarke stiffened at the words, but sleep was overtaking her, making her body heavy. Bellamy continued to speak, telling her about his hopes of having more children, of getting married, of growing old. She heard it all, but couldn’t find the energy to respond. Soon, they were both fast asleep, curled up in each other on the wooden floor.

 

 

 

When Bellamy woke up, it was light out and his back was already sore from sleeping on the hard ground. He turned over, gathering Clarke in his arms but his hands fell flat on the floor. The space next to him was empty. 

He sat up, expecting her to be drawing at the table or getting dressed, but no one was there. 

“Clarke?” he called to the empty room.

She was probably with Madi. But why hadn’t she woken him or left a note? Something didn’t seem right. Was last night that bad? Did she regret it?

Bellamy threw on his pants, grabbed his sword and sprinted down the stairs. There were no knights in front of Madi’s door. He peeked his head in. No one was inside either. 

He ran down the stairs, hoping to find Clarke and Madi at the table eating breakfast, but the only person he saw was Murphy, lingering in the kitchens.

“Murphy!”

His eyes widened at the sight of an infuriated Sir Blake approaching him.

“Where's Clarke?”

Murphy's alarm turned to confusion. “I thought you were with her.”

“I was, but I woke up this morning and she was gone. Where’s Madi?” “Clarke came to her room this morning, she said you’d be right down and that we could go get breakfast.” 

Bellamy practically growled.

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“She said you were coming!” 

“Well, where did she go?”

“I don’t know!” Murphy cried. He’d fucked up, he just didn't know how. “Why are you so worried anyways? She’s probably just at the stables.”

They checked the stables. They checked the training grounds. They checked the whole bloody kingdom. Clarke and Madi were gone. The only sign they had been anywhere was a horse and saddle that Octavia couldn’t seem to find.

“Why would she run?” Murphy ran an angry hand through his hair. “Last night you two seemed just fine. Better than fine, actually.” 

Bellamy shot him a terrifying look, making him click his jaw shut.  

“I said some things to her.” He was avoiding Murphy's eyes as they walked through the streets. Next stop, Raven’s shop.

“Like what?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “I just, I said some things, okay, Murphy? I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have and it scared her away.”

Sudden understanding crashed into Murphy. “You told her you loved her.”

“And that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. That I want to get married. Have more children,” Bellamy cringed. It had been the truth, but looking back on it now, he really should’ve given Clarke a little more time before pouring it on so heavy.

Murphy gave him a 'what were you thinking?' look.

“You’re an idiot, Blake." 

“I know.”

“You know Clarke can only handle so much before she panics.”

“I know.”

“She’s like a brick wall when it comes to actually expressing her emotions.”

“ _I know, Murphy!_ Okay? I know.” 

“What do you know, Blake?” Raven popped her head up. They had just walked into the shop and the female blacksmith was currently bent over some new project sketches. 

“Bellamy’s an idiot and Clarke ran away with Madi,” Murphy supplied helpfully.

Raven didn’t really believe it at first.

“You’re kidding.”

When neither of the knights said anything, her eyes widened. “You’re not kidding. What the hell happened? Why did Clarke run away?”

“Bellamy and Clarke slept together,” Murphy said, dry.

Raven squealed and Bellamy flinched at the sound.

“Oh my god! Fucking finally!” she ran up, grabbing Bellamy in a hug, pinning his arms to his side. “It’s about time you two got your shit together. It’s been seven damn years!”

“Don’t get too excited,” Murphy said, “Clarke still ran away afterwards.”

“Why would she do that?” Raven was looking between the two of them. “What the hell did you do to her, Blake?”

Bellamy scrunched his nose, embarrassed. “We… I said some things.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

As he struggled for the right words, Raven began to realize what had happened.

“You poured your heart out to her, didn’t you? Right after you guys had sex.”

Bellamy nodded, face dejected.

Raven shook her head, not willing to believe it. “I know Clarke isn’t the best when it comes to this stuff. But she loves you Bellamy, she really does. I don’t think she would just get up and leave if she was feeling overwhelmed.” 

Bellamy opened his mouth to argue, but Raven kept going, “She wouldn’t take Madi away from you. She wouldn’t leave her kingdom. Clarke’s not that selfish, Bellamy.” 

“Well then where is she, Ray?”

“I don’t know. But Clarke didn’t leave us. I refuse to believe she’d leave us again.”

Bellamy took a shaky breath, trying to gather some of Raven’s hope for himself. He hadn’t wanted to assume the worst; he wanted to give Clarke the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was still in the castle somewhere or in the gardens…

 

As the day went on, Bellamy’s mood only worsened. He wanted to snatch a horse and go after her, but he didn’t even know what direction she had gone. By the time the sun set, Bellamy was ready to drink himself into oblivion. Clarke had left, she’d really just left him. And she'd taken their daughter with her. 

Octavia ran around the corner, panting like mad.

“She’s back!”

Bellamy was out of his seat before the words were fully out of her mouth.

“Where is she?”

“In the stables.”

Not waiting, he took off towards the stables.

Bellamy skidded into the barn, almost crashing into an open stall door.

“Clarke?”

Her blonde hair popped up from behind one of the horses at the far end of the hallway. She saw him and immediately averted her eyes

“What the hell, Clarke! Where have you been?” 

Madi came out of the same stall, walking right up to Bellamy as he strode forward. He didn’t want to fight with Clarke in front of Madi, but he was so angry right now he didn’t know if he could help it. 

Intent on Clarke, Bellamy went to skirt around the young girl, but she stood right in front of him like a small wall. 

“Is it true?”

Clarke had shifted now, her back to him, brushing the horse’s neck and chest. Just then, Octavia came crashing in behind them, breathing hard.

“Well, thanks for waiting for me!” she complained. 

Good, now maybe Octavia could take Madi while he talked to Clarke. It took a moment for him to register that Madi had spoken. 

“Is what true?”

The child was glaring at him, almost like she was mad about something.

“Are you my dad?”

Bellamy recoiled. There’s no way he’d heard that right.

“Mom says that you’re my dad and that she didn’t tell me before, because she was worried you wouldn’t want us.”

Octavia made a sound close to a gasp

The anger left Bellamy like the snap of a finger. He felt dazed, his eyes losing focus and hands tingly.

Clarke had finally told Madi he was her father.

He looked to Clarke, lost for words. She had been brushing the same spot on the horse’s neck for minutes, pretending not to listen. 

Bellamy gulped, looking back down at Madi as she stared up at him expectantly. Octavia began backing away slowly, trying to allow them this private moment.

Bellamy crouched.

“I’ve always wanted you, Madi. Always.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking so much like her mother.

“But you didn’t want mom?” 

He tried to hide a pained sound.

“I’ve always wanted your mom too. It just took us a little while to realize it. I thought she was dead, Madi. She thought I was dead too. When you guys came back, it was hard for us to figure out what that meant ”

He always tried to talk to Madi the way he would an adult. She was sharp and witty and he knew even if she didn’t fully understand, she was clever enough to grasp the idea.

The girl searched his face and Bellamy wondered what she was looking for. Even as a child, Madi had built up some walls. She’d learned from Clarke that good things don’t always last and people aren’t always who they say they are.

“I want to be your dad, Madi, but only if you want me to.”

Her stoic face broke out into a big toothy smile.

“I want you to.”

Bellamy grinned as she reached for him. He stood, holding her close, clutching at the back of her hair and swinging her back and forth.

Pure joy filled his bones. Madi was his daughter. She knew he was her father and nothing could take that away now.

“Dad?” she squeaked as he hugged her a little too tight.

Tears prickled his eyes at being called 'dad'. Madi didn't even know the effect she could have on him. Together, they looked to Clarke. She was still facing away, but her hand had stopped moving entirely.

Madi, the intelligent child she was, tugged on Bellamy's pants leg and pointed at Clarke, urging him on. Bellamy snorted but took her advice.

“Clarke?” he said softly, coming up behind her. 

“Hey,” she turned to put the brush away, hiding her face.

“You had me sacred to death. I thought you were gone… again.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going,” she said to the wall.

“You could’ve at least left a note or told Murphy where you were going.”

She turned then and Bellamy saw that she had been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was red, both from the tears and the sun. But she was still beautiful- always was.

“After last night… after last night I knew I needed to tell her.”

“I wasn't sure that you ever would.”

"I wanted to, I just needed to find the right time."

"Well, you didn't have to leave me to do it." 

Clarke shifted from foot to foot, fidgeting with a fray in her dress. “I had to get away for a while. The things you said, they-”

“They scared you,” he said. This was already expected. He'd overstepped. 

She met his eyes. “They did.”

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that I meant everything I said, but I know you’re not ready yet, Clarke. I get it and I’m just sorry I said so much so fast.”

“I want all of that- everything you said.” Maybe there was hope after all. “I just am going to need some time.”

Bellamy walked forward, essentially trapping her between the wall and his body. Yet, Clarke didn’t panic. He was looming over her, his body huge next to hers, but all she felt was sheltered- safe.

“I will wait for you, Princess. As long as you need.”

"I promise it won't be another six years." 

He grunted a laugh. 

She leaned up on her toes, running her hand along his cheek, and twisting her fingers into his curls. Bellamy leaned down to meet her, but stopped when his mouth was only inches away. The final move was hers to make.

Clarke lifted her chin, brushing her lips against his lightly. At the contact, Bellamy groaned softly. He’d never get tired of kissing Clarke. The kiss was gentle and loving, their mouths moving slowly and hands wandering.

“ _Gross_!” Madi cried, breaking them apart. 

Bellamy chuckled, leaning down to give Clarke one last kiss on the forehead before backing away.

“Aren’t you supposed to be tired after riding all day?” Clarke said, giving Madi a peeved look.

"Nope, not tired. Just hungry,” Madi grinned. 

Bellamy swooped down to pick the girl up, tickling her sides. Clarke followed behind them, her hand on Bellamy's bicep, as they walked to the kitchens. Together. A family.


	44. Chapter 44

They were in bed one night, both of them sweaty and flushed, lying on their sides facing each other. Bellamy was playing with a strand of Clarke’s hair as her eyes slid shut. The window was open, allowing a nice breeze to blow through the heated room.

“Marry me.”

Clarke’s eyes popped open, bright and blue.

“What?” 

He was smiling over at her, his brown curls strung messily over his forehead and skin glowing bronze in the moonlight. The freckles on his nose had darkened from training outside so much and Clarke had taken to teasing him by connecting them into pictures.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, meaning it more than anything. There were a few years Clarke had never expected to be this happy and now, looking at Bellamy, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

His grin turned lopsided, dopily happy, and he leaned over to kiss her. Clarke surged forward meeting him halfway and burying her hands in his hair.

He nuzzled under her jaw, his voice dark, “No more running, Princess.”

“No more running,” she agreed, wiping away a stray tear. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

 

 

 

“You forget yourself, sir. I am not asking permission to marry a commoner, I am simply announcing the news.”

Lord Hunter sputtered, “Your Majesty, is this truly what is best for the kingdom?" 

Clarke’s eyes darkened. “I have done more than enough for Ark Kingdom and you would do well to remember that. I will not marry for politics, Lord Hunter.”

He began to speak again, but Clarke stood, cutting him off. “I have brought this kingdom back from sickness, I have rid it of a corrupt ruler, and I have made sacrifices you cannot even begin to imagine.” She was red in the face with anger, and the man seemed to recognize it. He bowed his head, taking a step back in fear.

Clarke spoke to the crowd, “Many of you are unhappy that I intend to marry a man that is not a nobleman, but I do not care. I love him. Sir Blake is to keep his knighthood. He will be the King Consort and nothing more. This is not him attempting a grab for power, as some of you have been lead to believe, it is a marriage rooted in love.”

Bellamy’s eyes met hers over the crowd. She expected him to be angry, or upset at the slander being thrown his way, but he was just smirking. Instantly, Clarke’s anger subsided. Bellamy was enjoying watching her stand up for him, _for them_ , and looking at him in the crowd, she knew she was making the right choice. Clarke would do just about anything for Arcadia, but she wasn’t willing to give up Bellamy, not now and not ever.

“Court is dismissed.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bellamy and Clarke got married on a winter afternoon. Clarke insisted it take place outside, even though there was snow everywhere and it was cold. The wedding was held in the pavilion Lincoln had created in memory of King Jake. Her dress was white and lacy and she wore a simple silver crown, her hair tied intricately in braids around it. Her rosy cheeks and ivory skin had her looking like an angel. Bellamy was dressed in a dark blue shirt and pants, his hair messy enough to be just right, with a smile that never left his face.

It was an intimate ceremony with just their family and friends. Clarke did not invite the whole kingdom for fear of having to provide food and drink for them all after.

Murphy walked Clarke down the aisle, and did a good job of being intimidating when he gave her away. Bellamy audibly gulped when he saw the intense look on his face. Jake would’ve been proud. Madi presented the rings and Octavia was Bellamy’s best man. Lincoln cried, and so did Raven- even though she would never admit to it.

“Bellamy, your vows?” Kane asked.

Bellamy reached out to take Clarke hands and she watched as his eyes began to well, the harshness of the snow contrasting the warmth that was all Bellamy.

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met, Clarke. I see how much you sacrifice for our people and Madi and your friends, and I just know that I am the luckiest man in the world. You are clever and strong and _brave_ and as your husband, I vow to stand by your side and support you in all that you do. I vow to love you even when we are fighting. I vow to keep you safe, even though everyone already knows you can do that yourself,” he paused, allowing Clarke and the crowd to laugh. He was trying to restrain tears and she gave him a reassuring squeeze and a smile, “You have brought out the best in me and I only hope I can do the same for you. Thank you, Clarke Griffin, for choosing me.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the small crowd, except for Clarke. She was just beaming up at him, her smile radiant and hair practically glowing against the whiteness around them.

Kane gestured, “Your turn, Clarke.”

“We didn’t get along at first, that’s no secret,” she started, earning a shout from Raven, ‘No kidding!’ Clarke glanced over at her, trying to glare, but couldn’t hold it and turned back to the man that was to be her husband.

“I always admired you, Bellamy. Your heart and your care for others was one of the reasons I couldn’t help falling in love with you. I know that loving me is not easy, and as your wife I vow that it probably never will be. But, I do promise that no matter what, I will be there for you, fighting with you and not against. We are a team now, forever. Thank you, Bellamy, for choosing me.”

Before Kane could say more Bellamy reached out, grabbing Clarke behind the neck and kissing her.

“Oh, uh, you may kiss the bride!” he stuttered, making them smile against each other’s lips.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

They parted, both wearing delirious smiles, while the crowd cheered.

Bellamy and Clarke were husband and wife and nothing had ever felt more perfect.

 

 

 

 

Clarke woke from bed early one morning and stumbled over to the chamber pot, vomiting violently, and waking her husband.

“Clarke?” Bellamy cried out in concern, “Are you okay?” 

He rushed out of bed, hair rumpled, and still naked from the night before.

“I’m fine,” she groaned, pushing her hair off of her sweaty forehead and wiping her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he knelt next to her, worry etched into his features.

“I think… I think I’m pregnant.”

 

 

The pregnancy was not particularly hard on either of them. Clarke was incredibly moody and ate like a horse, but she still remained thin, even with the baby inside of her. Her body might never return to its normal weight after everything she had been through, but for the most part Clarke seemed perfectly healthy. Only Bellamy seemed to have his concerns about her not gaining any pregnancy weight. Each time he mentioned it, Clarke would look at him pointedly and shove a huge bite of food into her mouth to prove he was worrying for nothing. 

The baby was born seven months after her first round of morning sickness. A boy. Dark eyes like his father, blonde hair as bright as his mother’s- the polar opposite of Madi, who was ecstatic to have a brother, but not quite so happy to share the attention.

“What are we going to name him?” Bellamy asked, holding the bundle. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes, or his hands off of the baby since the moment he was born. Clarke was still in bed, recovering. The labor had been long, but much less painful than when she had had Madi. At least this time she had Jackson helping her and a clean bed. There were still crescent moon shaped marks on Bellamy’s hand where she had gripped him hard.

 

_‘_ _You got it, Princess, almost there. That’s it. C’mon Clarke, just one more push.’_

 

He had kissed her sweaty forehead as she screamed, mumbling encouragements against her temple. Clarke didn’t know how she had managed to give birth the first time without him. But then they had both looked up as Jackson handed over their son and nothing else mattered.

“I was thinking you could find a name in one of those Greek stories you like so much.”

Bellamy hummed, hopping around with the sweet boy for a minute, and nuzzling his chin. He looked down at the baby and then back at the wonder that was his wife. She looked tired, but her eyes were bright as she watched them.

Clarke had never gotten this experience with Madi; it had just been the two of them. Seeing Bellamy hold their child, kiss him, and adore him, about made her fall in love all over.

“What about Wells?” 

Clarke froze, staring at the two most important men in her life, trying to figure out if he was serious.

Bellamy met her eyes and she knew he meant it. Clarke had given him the life he’d always wanted. She had given him two beautiful children and more than that, she had given him her love. The least he could do was give her this.

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “We could call him Wells Jr.”

“Wells would hate it,” she said with a frown. Slowly, a wicked smile spread across her face, “It’s perfect.”

 

 

 

 

Clarke had spent two weeks straight in nightly meetings with Roan. She would come back to their rooms, exhausted, too tired to talk, and crawl into bed. Bellamy would curl around her, whispering a gentle ‘I love you’ and then fall back into a sound sleep. She would be gone again in the morning before he even woke up.

Most of his time was spent with Wells- feeding him, caring for him, changing diapers. It didn’t bother him at all that Clarke was working while he was stuck doing the parenting. He had done the same thing for Octavia and Wells was his actual son. 

Bellamy loved him with every ounce of his being and as babies went, Wells was pretty well behaved. Clarke had been there with him the first four months or so, but lately she had been so busy he rarely saw her during the day. Sometimes, he would bring Wells to see her and she would feed him while she worked. Other times, he didn’t see her until dinner. 

He was walking to the kitchen, Wells on one hip and Madi chatting happily at his side, when he saw her. She was in front of the fireplace, back turned, one hand on the mantle, and the other hanging loosely at her side. He wondered why she was staring at the fire, but then he noticed something burn in the flames.

“Clarke?”

She turned, startled by their presence, even though Madi and Wells had been making noise the entire walk. Something must really be on her mind for her to have been so distracted and Bellamy felt a sliver of worry wedge itself into his chest. Clarke’s shock quickly turned to joy when she saw the three of them.

“Mom!” Madi called, running to give her a hug, “Are you going to play with us today?”

“I think I could make time for that,” Clarke smiled, grabbing Madi’s hand and leading her towards the kitchen. 

Dread filled Bellamy when Clarke glanced over Madi’s head and met his eyes. She was smiling, sure, but it was far too cheerful and far too forced. She had put on a mask that he immediately recognized. It was the same facade she had worn for months after the death of her father and Wells and Finn.

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy asked that evening as they were packing up their picnic, “What’s wrong?”

He folded the blanket they had set out, watching Clarke as she bounced Wells on her leg a bit, avoiding his gaze. Sometimes, Bellamy was too perceptive for his own good. Madi was off doing cartwheels in the grass, too far away to hear them. 

“Its nothing.”

“Are you sure?” he put a hand under her chin gently, forcing her to look at him.

She smiled, “I’m sure. It’s nothing, Bellamy.” He held her there for a minute, searching her face, until she leaned up and gave him a peck.

When she pulled back her eyes were dull, empty of their usual spark. Clarke was a great leader, but a terrible liar. Bellamy didn’t push, he trusted her and if she said it was fine, then he was going to believe it. She would tell him what was going on when she was ready.

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey, Princess,” Bellamy called, entering their rooms.

She was at the drawing table, facing the widow. He set down his sword and began to change. It had been a long day of training and all he wanted to do was take a nice hot bath and go to bed.

“Clarke?” he called again when she didn’t reply.

Still nothing. He turned around, making sure she was really there and he wasn’t just imagining things. There she was, familiar blonde hair tied back in a braid and small frame blocking some of the sun’s setting rays.

“Clarke?” he asked, coming around the front of the table to face her.

The reason she wasn’t answering became clear. Clarke was zoned out, her eyes locked in on something far in the distance. In one hand was her sketchbook and in the other was a white cloth.

“Hey,” he grunted, shaking her shoulders. Finally, she blinked, gaze focusing. 

“Oh, hey, Bell.”

Looking down at his wife, Bellamy’s heart began beating faster. Ever since Roan had showed up Clarke had been acting strange. She wouldn’t tell him why Roan was even here, but her weird behavior was becoming too obvious to ignore.

“Clarke,” he crouched down so that they were at eye level, “What is wrong? You haven’t been yourself lately. I know you said everything was fine, but I can tell its not. I need to know what’s going on, Princess.”

It took a moment of him staring intently at her for her to react. Slowly, her eyes began to well and she held out a shaky hand. Bellamy took the piece of cloth from Clarke with a scrunched brow. Why was she giving him her handkerchief? The white fabric fell open in his palm, revealing a patch of red goo so dark it was almost black. 

“What is it?”

Clarke sniffed, trying to rein herself in. “My blood.”

“What?”

“That’s my blood. I coughed it up.”

“Why?”

She paused, not answering until Bellamy looked up. Confusion was written all over his face.

“I’m sick, Bellamy.”

The stained cloth fell from his hand.

“No, you’re not.”

If she were sick, he would’ve noticed. She was fine. Clarke was fine; she was just acting different. Something was going on with the Grounders and Roan.

Reaching one hand up to cup his cheek, Clarke repeated, “I’m sick, Bellamy.”

He didn’t believe her. 

“No, you’re not,” he pushed her hand away from his cheek and stood.

Just then, something dark began leaking from Clarke’s nose.

“Clarke,” he said horrified, pointing. She reached a hand up, her finger coming away bloody. 

Bellamy watched, unable to process, as Clarke used the dropped cloth to soak up her bloody nose. It couldn’t be true.

“I don’t understand,” Bellamy said weakly. 

“Do you remember how I told you about Mount Weather and the Mountain Men?”

He nodded, taking the seat next to her. His legs no longer felt strong enough to support him. 

“During the experiments, they injected me with the disease that was killing them.”

“How do you know that?” 

She shook her head, setting the bloody cloth down on the table.

“I didn’t. There were no immediate side effects. But, Roan…” she trailed off. Bellamy reached forward, grabbing her small hand in his own. She was so cold, but he needed the contact as much as she did.

“Roan sent me a letter a year or so ago saying that the Grounders who were in Mount Weather were showing signs of sickness. I sent extra medicine, thinking nothing of it. And I felt fine. But then they started getting sicker,” she met his eyes. Bellamy was hanging on to every word, his face unreadable. “Then they started dying.”

No.

“Echo isn’t sick!” he argued, but Clarke simpered, giving a small smile.

 “She and a few others were kept in a different area than the rest of us. I talked to her and she said they never injected her with anything.” 

Bellamy gulped. He felt like he was watching this from some far off place, like this was a dream, and any moment now he would wake up and Clarke would be next to him in bed, snoring loudly and her hair stuck to his face obnoxiously.

“Luna, one of the Grounders, seemed the healthiest. She only had mild dizziness and some bloody noses.”

 He didn’t want to hear the rest of this. He didn’t want to hear Clarke say what he already knew.

“She died last month.”

And with those four words, Bellamy’s heart sunk.

“You are not going to die,” he said harshly, pulling Clarke forward into his arms. She went willingly, crawling onto his lap and burying her head in his neck.

“We will talk to Monty, Jackson, to your mother if we have to. There has to be a cure.”

“That’s what Roan and I have been doing for the last few months.”

Bellamy bit his tongue, hard. She had been lying to him for months about being sick. She had been trying to cure herself before he could even find out she was ill. He wanted to yell at her, to curse her for being so selfish, but in this moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at her. All he felt was a growing hole in the very center of his chest.

“How long have you known?” he said a little harsher than intended. Clarke sniffed, raising her head from his neck.

“Six months.”

Bellamy opened his mouth to scold her, but stopped himself. 

“Why are you just now getting sick?”

She ran a comforting hand through his curls. Bellamy watched with desolate eyes. Clarke had been so thin since she returned, but it never occurred to him it was because she had a disease.

He’d expressed his fears about her not gaining enough pregnancy weight, but Clarke and even Jackson had brushed his worries aside. He should’ve pushed harder, should’ve insisted that something was wrong.

“They captured me after they already had the Grounders,” she explained, “They were probably injected more than I was. That’s why it took so long to effect me.”

Bellamy dropped his forehead to hers, staring fiercely into her eyes.

“I want to be so mad at you right now, Clarke. I can’t believe you kept this from me.” Her lip quivered and Bellamy gave a comforting swipe of his nose against hers. “You are going to be okay, Princess. I promise. You’re not going to die. We will figure this out. Together.”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face, “Together.”

 

They went to bed that night without talking. What could either of them say? How could Clarke tell him how afraid she was of dying- that she didn’t want to leave him to take care of Madi and Wells alone? She wanted to grow old with Bellamy, see her children grow old and have children of their own. She didn’t want Madi to have the burden of the crown so young.

Bellamy didn’t know what to think or feel. He was angry she had let it go on without telling him, furious at the Mountain Men for torturing her, but mostly he was terrified of losing her. How could he tell the woman he loved that she was going to be fine, when he didn’t know if it was true? The next morning the first thing he was going to do was go see Monty and Abby. They would find a way to help Clarke, he was certain of it. 

Bellamy and Clarke lay in bed, wrapped around each other, unable to sleep. He kissed her hair and she drew soothing patterns on his skin.

Hours into the sleepless night, they had separated slightly from the heat, but Clarke began to shake.

“Clarke?” he reached out, pulling her back to his front, and holding her there. 

“Clarke, are you okay?”

 A loud sob broke through the quite room.

“I’m scared, Bellamy,” she cried as her body continue to tremble uncontrollably. His heart shattered and he had to close his eyes.

“It’s okay, Clarke, it's okay,” he mumbled into the back of her head, eyes burning. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me again, Princess and I’m holding you to that.”

She laughed, a harsh bark, and moved back into him farther. Finally, after they had both cried themselves into exhaustion, they slept.


	45. Chapter 45

Clarke and Bellamy spent weeks with Roan, Jackson, Monty and even Abby. They devoted hours pouring over the excruciating details of her torture. 

Where had they injected her? How many times? What color was it? Did it have a smell? Had she heard any of the Mountain Men mention anything important? They were searching for any clue as to what the disease was and how to cure it.

It was an exhausting process, and seeing the effect it had on Clarke, made Bellamy even more agitated. Eventually, they decided to send a group of men to Mount Weather to try and find the place Clarke had been kept. Roan tried to do the same when the Grounders had first gotten sick, but his people wouldn’t step foot in that place willingly. Clarke and Bellamy put together a group of Ark knights that would go and told them to hurry.

Clarke continued to cough up blood and got at least one nosebleed daily, but her heath remained the same besides that. She attended court every time it was scheduled and continued to fulfill her Queenly duties. Bellamy watched from afar, wishing she wouldn’t push herself so far, but knowing he couldn’t ask her to stop. This was Clarke- determination was her middle name.

When Clarke wasn’t at court or in a meeting, she and Bellamy spent time with the children. Madi was growing up to become a real pain. She was wild and sassy and far too similar to Clarke and Bellamy for their liking. Wells was an adorable toddler, who earned ‘awww’s and ‘oh he’s so handsome’ everywhere they went. Unlike their daughter, Wells was incredibly well behaved. Clarke liked to joke that he actually _was_ Wells reincarnated.

The knights returned with bad news. They had not been able to find any of the vials of blood or even evidence of the Mountain Men’s torture. In fact, Mount Weather had been ransacked, some of it burned and almost everything gone.

When it became clear Clarke wasn’t getting better, they decided to tell the children. Madi had a similar reaction as her father. She screamed and shouted. She yelled that Clarke wasn’t sick- that there was no way, and that she was lying. Then, she raced out of the castle, saying she was going to stay with her Aunt O. Wells cried from the fighting, but was too little to understand what was really going on.

“She’ll be back,” Bellamy promised, giving Clarke’s shoulder a squeeze. She nodded; holding back tears as she tried to comfort Wells.

“I need to get to court.”

 

 

 

“Is it true?” Octavia’s harsh voice broke Clarke and Bellamy out of their breakfast conversation. She was standing in the doorway, chest heaving in anger and eyes wild. Madi was next to her, face blotchy and hair tangled.

Clarke gulped and looked to Bellamy for support. They hadn’t wanted to tell their friends yet, but after Madi had run away it was sort of inevitable that she would tell Octavia.

“Yes,” Clarke said.

“Why did I have to hear from my niece that _my sister_ is sick?”

Clarke flinched. Octavia had never called Clarke her sister before and it hurt that she was doing it now, in anger.

“O,” Bellamy warned. 

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?” Octavia snapped. Ashamed, Clarke looked down at her food. 

“I don’t know.” 

Octavia stomped forward, grabbing onto Clarke’s shoulders and forcing their faces together. Bellamy jumped up to stop her, but Clarke raised a hand, telling him it was okay. Warily, he watched the two women he loved so much. 

“Listen to me, Clarke,” Octavia said, glaring, “I know that letting people in is hard. I know that you are not used to being loved. But its time for you to get used to it, because _I love you_ and Bellamy loves you. Raven, Monty, Murphy, Miller, Jackson, Harper, and Lincoln love you Clarke, and you can’t hide this from them.” 

Some of them already knew, Clarke thought.

Twin tear tracks were mirrored on both of their cheeks.

“I know,” Clarke shuddered and Octavia brushed a piece of hair out of her face affectionately.

Madi took that moment to wedge her way between them and crawl onto Clarke’s lap. Octavia let Clarke go, but her eyes still lingered.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Clarke chided, running her hand through Madi’s hair. “I love you, baby. Don’t ever forget that.”

Madi snuggled into her mother and Octavia sat down for breakfast. She gave her brother a look that said they had a lot of talking to do, but Bellamy only felt relief. He had wanted to confide in Octavia right away, but Clarke had wanted to keep it quite. Now, he could talk to her and maybe Clarke would tell the others.

 

 

 

 

Clarke and Bellamy decided to tell everyone else at a family dinner one night. It did not go over well.

“I’d like to make an announcement,” Clarke said, standing. Bellamy watched her, trying to give her courage with only a look.

“You knocked up again, Griffin?” Raven teased.

“I bet she found another kingdom to usurp,” Murphy said, sipping his beer.

Octavia sat silent, already knowing what was about to come.

Clarke decided to just rip the bandage off.

“Actually, no. I just wanted to let you all know that I’m sick. Monty, Jackson, Roan and I have been working on a cure.”

The humor in the room evaporated.

“What do you mean you’re sick?” Harper asked.

“During the six years I was away, I ended up getting kidnapped by the Mountain Men. They preformed experiments on me, and the Grounders they had captured, to try and find a cure for a disease their people were dying from. In order to find a cure, though, they had to first inject us with the disease…”

Raven and Murphy were staring at her with blank looks. Lincoln was holding Octavia’s hand, having already been told the news by his wife, but not wanting to believe it. Harper was already crying.

“I have the disease. So far, no one has survived it.”

Clarke sat down, her chair scraping along the floor and sounding like a scream in the silent room.

“That’s not funny,” Murphy said darkly.

Clarke met his eyes, challengingly. This is how they knew to interact, with anger. “I wasn’t joking.”

“You don’t look sick,” Raven said. 

“I feel it.”

That statement made this situation real. Clarke never, ever admitted her pain, but she was doing so now. 

“How long?” Raven asked, her voice hoarse.

“Monty is working on a cure,” Bellamy said. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone. Clarke didn’t answer Raven's question, just gave her husband a reassuring smile. 

Murphy stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. 

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Raven asked brokenly.

Clarke glanced around the room, her gazing stopping on Bellamy. “I thought I could fight it all by myself.”

But she couldn’t. This was one thing Clarke could not do herself. She needed her friends.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Raven said, “Helping you and Monty and Jackson. Whatever I can do, I’ll be there.”

Harper nodded her agreement.

“I’ll ask the townspeople, Clarke. Maybe they know of a homemade remedy or something that no one has thought of yet,” Lincoln said.  

“Thank you, guys.”

“You’re not dying on us that easily, Griffin,” Raven said, rising to kiss Clarke on the forehead. 

Raven left then, going home to spend the night with Shaw and their daughter. She had a lot to take in.

 

 

 

The next morning, Murphy came to Clarke’s door. She opened it, blurry eyed and yawning. 

“Murphy?”

Without warning, he gathered Clarke into a hug. She stiffened, but slowly relaxed, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“It’ll be okay, Murphy.”

He pulled back, looking into her eyes, “I know it will. You’re Clarke fucking Griffin. You’d live through an apocalypse just to come back and spite us all.”

“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. I plan on annoying you until we are both old and grey and decrepit.”

"Not if I annoy you into an early grave first," Murphy smirked, but the light in his eyes was dim. 

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. His skin was salty, as if he had been crying, but Clarke didn’t comment.

With one last look, Murphy turned on his heel, painting on his signature indignant face, and leaving Clarke to crawl back in bed with Bellamy. 

 

 

 

 

 

On warm mornings, Clarke and Bellamy would go to the training grounds before anyone else got there. They would train together- trading blows and taunts, laughing and exchanging loving touches.

Clarke was weaker than normal, but she would yell at Bellamy if he was going too easy on her, so Bellamy treated her the same way he had treated Jay. Well, at least to an extent.

Bellamy would push her as far as he thought she could manage before slowing down. But Clarke seemed to feel her body failing her and it only made her that much more frustrated. He tried to hide the way he ‘accidentally’ missed some brutal strikes, or complain about his shoulder hurting, or say that Clarke’s swing had made his arms go numb from the reverberation. Mostly, Clarke was too lost in her own mind to notice him easing up.

She would come home with bruises, and so would he. At night he would kiss them, whispering that he was sorry. Clarke refused to hear it- telling him she didn’t care. She loved sparring with him and not having to hide who she really was. It was liberating and she loved sharing it with the man she loved.

Mostly, she loved that Bellamy wasn’t treating her like she was dying.

 

 

 

 

It was a few months later when Monty managed to find a plant that made Clarke feel better. She started gaining weight and her color returned, allowing everyone to breath a sigh of relief. She no longer looked like she was dying; instead she looked like the healthy young woman she was supposed to.

Clarke seemed pessimistic that drinking the tea and eating the herbs Monty provided would cure her, but Bellamy tried to remain positive. In the back of his head, he shared her concerns, but he never let it show. Even the mighty Wanheda needed reassurance. Bellamy refused to let her or the kids know his doubts.

 

 

 

 

Bellamy and Clarke decided to spend the day at the waterfall, just the two of them. Raven and Shaw were watching the kids and would have them all night to give Bellamy and Clarke a break. Raising a toddler and Madi was tiring, especially when both parents were trying to work as much as possible. Thankfully, Raven and Shaw loved taking care of Madi and Wells. Even though they had one of their own to care for as well.

As soon as they reached the water, Bellamy and Clarke jumped off their horses, racing to the river and stripping. It was a warm day and the water wasn’t too cold. Bellamy splashed her mercilessly and Clarke retaliated by climbing on his shoulders and holding him under water until he was slapping at her thighs. She let him up with a laugh. Bellamy didn’t seem so thrilled and got back at her by pinning her up against one of the rocks and kissing her neck until she was panting. They stayed against the rock for some time. After, they put their clothes back on and Bellamy set out lunch. They ate cheese and meat and wine on the sandy bank, laughing and bickering about nothing.

“I needed this,” Clarke said, leaning back and basking in the sun. 

“Me too.”

He watched her close her eyes and prop the back of her head on her hands. Unable to resist, he leaned over to kiss her softly. The kissing turned more heated and soon they were both undressed again. Clarke sunk down on him with a cry and Bellamy groaned. He kept his hands on her as they moved, feeling her hips, her breasts, tracing the scars on her legs and stomach from her many battles. She leaned down to kiss him, her hair like a curtain around them. 

“Bell,” she moaned against his mouth and he dropped his hand down between them.

“I got you, Princess.”

She came with a cry, triggering his own orgasm.

“I love you,” he whispered in their afterglow stupor.

Clarke nibbled on his ear evilly, “Sucks for you.”

He tickled her waist in response, earning a squeal and a laugh.

“Fine,” she muttered, rolling her eyes lovingly, “I love you too.”

They fell asleep in the warm afternoon, smelling of sun and sand and each other. It was the best day they had had in a while.

Bellamy woke with a shiver. The sun had gone down and it was no longer warm on the sandy bank. He was thankful Clarke insisted they put some of their clothes back on before falling asleep. He shifted, looking over at Clarke. His wife looked so peaceful, blonde hair in disarray, and mouth parted open slightly. When was the last time she had truly gotten to relax, when was the last time either of them had? He didn’t want to wake her but if they didn’t leave soon it would be hard to see the path on their way home.

“Clarke,” he nudged her. She joggled a bit from the movement, but didn’t wake.

“Clarke,” he shook her a bit harder. Still nothing. Bellamy moved his arm out from under her and rose so he was on his knees in the sand.

“Clarke,” he insisted, shaking her shoulders and causing blonde hair to shift and cover her pale face. 

“No, no, no.” 

Tears blurred his vision as he tried incessantly to wake her. Bellamy checked her pulse the way she had taught him to do. 

“Princess, don’t do this. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me.”

He gathered her up in arms, rocking them back and forth. 

“You promised me, Clarke. You promised me you wouldn’t leave.”

 

 

 

They rang the castle bells that night, waking everyone who was asleep and breaking the hearts of those who weren’t. No one had to ask what happened. Ark Kingdom had lost its Queen and Bellamy Blake had lost his Princess.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have made it this far, I'm so sorry.


	46. Chapter 46

Bellamy took all the blankets and pillows in Clarke’s room and brought them downstairs. He threw them out on the floor and gathered Madi and Wells into his arms. They lay there for hours. Madi sobbed and Wells cried too but he didn’t truly understand what was wrong. Only when the kids had fallen asleep did Bellamy allow himself to break down.

How was he supposed to do this without her? How was he going to help Madi become Queen when he had no idea where to even start? 

Raven found the three of them like that, spread out on the ground in Madi’s room. Without a word, she sat, taking Wells into her lap. 

“You need to bathe, Bellamy.” 

His blood shot eyes met hers, as if just now noticing she was there.

“Go. I’ll take care of them for a little while.”

 

           

 

The funeral would be held in two days. Today though, Kane had asked them to meet him in the throne room. Bellamy sat in front, holding Wells close with Madi tucked into his shoulder. Octavia and Lincoln were on his other side. Raven, Shaw, Monty, Harper, Miller and Jackson were on the bench behind them. 

No one knew why Kane had called them here; the man himself wasn’t even in the room yet. They all sat silently, staring at the empty throne. Clarke hadn’t been Queen for long, but she had made her mark. The people of Ark Kingdom and the Grounders would never forget what she had done for them.

Bellamy glanced down at his daughter. Her face was swollen and she was wearing day old clothes, but at least he had combed and braided her hair so it was neat. Looking at the small girl, Bellamy wanted to scream. She was too young for the responsibility that would soon be thrust upon her.

Clarke had started to talk to Madi about what it was to be a queen, and allowed her to observe court sessions, but Madi was just not ready. She was wild and free and it wasn’t fair that she was about to have to spend all her days inside, dressed up, dealing with political matters. That wasn’t who Madi was and even though Clarke was good at it, it wasn’t who she had been either.

Kane emerged from behind the throne, holding a stack of papers, looking haggard. He took his place on the steps, glancing out at all of them.

“I realize that the funeral is not for two more days, but it was important to gather you all together before that.”

Bellamy straightened. This was the first he’d heard of anything like this. What was so important? And why was Kane the one announcing it?

Kane set down the stack of papers, lifting a single one in his shaky hand.

“Clarke asked me to read this at the ceremony, but… I think its better to read it to you all first.”

Bellamy’s eyes zeroed in on the piece of paper in Kane’s hand. Clarke had written that. She had written something for Kane to read… His heart stuttered. What could it possibly say?

Kane cleared his throat, bringing the paper up to his nose. Everyone in the room stiffened.

 

 

 

 

> _People of Ark Kingdom,_
> 
> _Arcadia has the kindest, most hard working, amazing people I’ve ever known and it was an honor to be your Princess and your Queen. Do not mourn for me. I will have died knowing that I am loved. My family and friends should know that without them, I would have died long ago, and for that I will be forever grateful._
> 
> _For a while now, I’ve known that my time was coming and have planned accordingly. Even though I am gone, I hope you will continue to respect my wishes. If not, you will have to respect the law that I have written and put into place. It’s a simple request really, though I know it won’t seem that way at first._
> 
> _Often, monarchies favor the people who are already in power and trample over those who are weakest. I tried to be different, but I want to ensure that nothing of the sort happens after my rule is over._
> 
> _So, as I die, so shall the crown._
> 
> _Arcadia is no longer a kingdom. From this moment on, it is a country ruled by an elected body of officials. This newly formed council shall have nine members and will equally represent the population of Arcadia. The Council will be made up of three common people, two noblemen, one knight, and one person of your choosing. I have given the eighth seat to Lord Marcus Kane, who has shown loyalty and devotion to the Ark and will continue to serve it properly after I am gone. My daughter, Madeline Griffin-Blake, will take the ninth and final seat. Her father, Sir Bellamy Blake, will sit in her place until she comes of age or decides to pass on her seat to someone worthy._
> 
> _To maintain our alliance, one Grounder clansman will be asked to sit on the council and weigh in on decisions. While their voice will be heard, he or she will have no voting power. After all, these will be our laws, not theirs._
> 
> _Terms are limited to five years. At which time, a council member can be reelected or someone new can take his or her place. I have asked that Marcus Kane be in charge of ensuring that elections are fair and everyone has an equal opportunity to vote._
> 
> _The rest of the details are in the law. Should you have any questions- ask Lord Kane. He assisted me in creating this new government and will be essential in its establishment._
> 
> _Many of you may not agree with this decision. To that, I say one thing: are you scared of how this change will disrupt Arcadia or are you scared because your wealth will no longer allow you to make decisions for the entire country?_
> 
> _Queen Clarke Griffin_
> 
> _Arcadia’s Ninth and Final Monarch_

 

After minutes of silence, Raven was the first to speak.

“Can she do that?”

“It sounds like she already did,” Lincoln said.

It didn’t surprise Bellamy that Clarke would come up with something so fair and yet so precarious. That was just who she was. All Bellamy could feel was gratitude. Clarke had made sure that Madi would be protected, that she would get to choose what she wanted for her life. His Princess was always doing what was best for her people. Even now, after death, Clarke was saving them all.

“Clarke knew this wasn’t gong to be easy, in fact she counted on it being near impossible,” Kane said and paused, looking down at the letter, “When she came back, she could’ve killed me. She could’ve thrown me in the dungeons or beheaded me, but she didn’t. Clarke saved my life and this was her dying declaration. I intend on seeing it through.”

Kane met Bellamy’s eyes and the knight nodded his approval. They would all see it through, for Clarke.

“She also asked me to give these to you.”

Kane leaned down, picking up the other stack of papers and handing them out to their proper recipients. 

Bellamy looked down at the envelope, recognizing his name written in Clarke’s loopy handwriting. The letter felt heavy in his hands. He couldn't read it now and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to.  

 

 

“Dad?”

A broad man turned, his salt and pepper hair glinting in the sun.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you until tonight.”

The young woman shrugged, looking towards the cabin.

“Where’s Wells?” 

“He’s inside, pretending to be asleep so he doesn’t have to work.”

“I was never that lazy as a teenager, was I?”

Bellamy set another chunk of wood on the chopping block, bringing his axe down in one solid swing.

“No. You’d have been out here at two in the morning, swinging this axe around if I let you.”

Madi grinned, thinking about it, but her amusement slowly faded.

“What’s wrong?” Bellamy asked.

“I have to tell you something.”

Wiping his sweaty forehead, Bellamy set the axe down. Last time Madi said those words, she’d told him she was getting married. Bellamy’s head had almost exploded.

“I was going to tell everyone at dinner, but I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He was starting to really worry now.

“Madi, what is it?”

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

Bellamy was glad he’d set the axe down; otherwise he might’ve cut off his foot when he dropped it. 

“ _Really_?”

She squinted her eyes. “Are you mad?”

“Are you kidding?” Bellamy strode forward, grabbing and hugging her so hard he lifted her off the ground. “This is amazing, Madi! You’re pregnant! I’m going to be a grandpa!”

Madi was happy and loved. She was expanding her family. How could he be mad?

She held onto him tight, leaning her temple against his.

“I wish mom was here.”

Bellamy’s arms stiffened briefly and he slowly set her down.

“I wish she was here too. She would be so proud of you.” 

Madi wiped away a stray tear. “You don’t think she would be mad that I never joined the Council?”

“No, not mad. She would be jealous as hell with what you’ve chosen to do, but definitely not mad.”

Madi sometimes forgot that she was a Princess once- that she was meant to be a Queen. What would her life have been like if Clarke had never allowed women to become knights? Would she live in the castle, wearing pretty dresses, and attending balls? 

“I miss her so much.” 

Bellamy leaned his head back, holding in tears. “Me too, Madi. Everyday.”

They hugged again, pretending to ignore each other’s sniffles. Only when Wells tripped down the stairs as he came outside did they part.

 

 

 

 

“Aden and I have an announcement!” Madi said, standing and trying to wrangle everybody’s attention. There were nearly twenty people here- family, friends, children of family and friends.

“ _Hey_!” she shouted and everyone quieted. “Thanks. Like I was saying, Aden and I have an announcement. We’re having a baby!” she squealed, throwing her hands up in excitement.

Cheers erupted in the room. Knowingly, Octavia and Raven glanced at Bellamy, gauging his reaction. But Bellamy was just smiling, looking genuinely happy, and they breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s one more thing,” Madi said, exchanging a smile with her husband. “We've already decided on a name.”

“Name him Wells the Third!” Wells shouted, earning laughs all around. 

Madi sent her brother a glare, but Wells just stuck out his tongue. She held up a spoon, threatening to throw it. Sometimes, it was like they’d never grown up. 

Gently, Bellamy cuffed his son on the back of the head. “Let your sister talk.”

Wells grumbled, but shifted lower in his chair, giving the floor back to Madi.

Satisfied, Madi cleared her throat.

Over the table, she locked eyes with Bellamy.

“Boy or girl, we’re going to name it Clarke.”

The room went silent, smiles fading. As if drawn by a magnet, everyone turned to look at Bellamy. His eyes were glazed over, eyebrows drawn together and hand gripping his cup hard.

It took him a moment to really understand what Madi had just said and when he did, he smiled. 

His grandchild would be named Clarke. There would never be a more fitting honor for his wife.

Eventually, someone broke the tension.

“Well, at least you got a choice!” Murphy called, looking pointedly across the room at his son. Griff was seated on the floor, a sketchbook in his lap, oblivious to everything going on around him. 

“What are you talking about, Murphy?” Raven asked.

“Clarke practically threatened to come back from the dead and haunt me if I didn’t name my first born after her.”

Even sixteen years later, it still felt like a punch to the gut every time someone mentioned that Clarke was dead.

But it was Bellamy who let out a startled laugh. “That sounds like something she would do.”

Madi giggled and then they were all laughing, exchanging stories about Clarke and her dry sense of humor. Eventually, the room settled back into silence as each of them realized just how much they missed her.

“To Clarke,” Lincoln raised a glass. 

“ _To Clarke_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me this long! 
> 
> I'm sorry I made it so sad. Clarke deserved a happy ending, but it just didn't feel like the right way to end the story. Sometimes, having a "happily ever after" doesn't do the story justice. 
> 
> If you liked this, please share it, comment, or give kuddos! I'm interested to see what everyone thinks about the ending. 
> 
> The next chapter is just going to be a collection of all the letters Clarke wrote to her friends.


	47. The Letters

> Dear Octavia and Lincoln,
> 
>  
> 
> Or should I say sister and brother? That’s what you both are to me- family. Not by blood, but by choice. I wish you both all the happiness in the world. I only hope that your family will continue to grow as well. 
> 
> Octavia, Bellamy is going to need you now more than ever. We both know he will pretend he is fine, that he is holding it together. Sometimes, that may be true. But I fear most of the time, it will not. 
> 
> Lincoln, Octavia is going to need you now more than ever. Her brother is her soul and I’m afraid that as Bellamy suffers, so will she. 
> 
> If I may, I’d like to ask each of you a favor? Considering this is my death wish, I expect you both to follow through. Lincoln, you are the kindest man I know. Will you teach that compassion to Madi and Wells as they grow older? Octavia, you are by far the fiercest, most vibrant woman I’ve ever met. Please don’t let my death take away that vibrancy and passion. I’m going to need you to teach it to my children as well. 
> 
> Take care of each other, take care of my family, and remember that when Bellamy wanted to kill you both, I made sure he didn’t.
> 
>  
> 
> May we meet again.
> 
> Love, Clarke

 

 

 

> Dear Raven,
> 
>  
> 
> This letter will be simple. I know sentiment is not your favorite. Mine either. 
> 
> I also know that you are probably angry with me. I would be too. When you have had enough time to forgive me for my selfishness, please read the rest.
> 
> You are the strongest person I know, Raven. You are brilliant and beautiful and I do not want to have to say goodbye to you. You picked me up when I was weak, you armed me, and you loved me. I don’t know the words to express my gratitude for your friendship.
> 
> If given a million choices, I would always pick you first.
> 
>  
> 
> May we meet again.
> 
> Love, Clarke

 

 

 

 

> Dear Murphy,
> 
>  
> 
> I’d be surprised if you actually read this letter. I assume you will throw it in the fire or rip it up before even opening the envelope. However, my hope is that you stash it away and open it when you are ready. Maybe it’s been a few months since I’ve died? Maybe a few years.
> 
> Love doesn’t come easy to us. Neither does happiness. I’m happy you found both.
> 
> I know you hated me for a while, and then I know you hated yourself for not hating me. However you feel towards me now, I just want you to know that I died considering you a loyal friend. How’s that for a guilt trip?
> 
> You can be angry with me, Murphy, but don’t you dare take that anger out on anyone else. My death is not an excuse for you to separate yourself from those that love you.
> 
> Please don’t teach Madi and Wells to misbehave too much.
> 
>  
> 
> May we meet again.
> 
> Love, Clarke
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I’ve always wanted someone to name a child after me and I hear people that die and don’t get their wishes fulfilled often become ghosts.

 

 

 

 

> Dear Bellamy,
> 
>  
> 
> I love you- simple words for an indescribable experience. You are my soul mate and you are my partner, Bellamy. With you, I was able to live a life I’d only ever dreamed about.
> 
> Will you tell the children that their mother loves them? Will you tell Wells that I’m sorry I wont get to watch him grow up? Will you tell Madi that she is strong and capable and can do whatever she sets her mind to? They are lucky to have you, Bellamy, and so was I.
> 
> Remember, you also have Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, Murphy, Monty, Harper, Jackson and many others to help you along the way. Please don’t try to do this by yourself. Learn from my mistakes.
> 
> Mourn for me, but move on. Cry for me, but smile. Miss me, but only in the good way. Please, Bellamy, don’t let my death change who you are. Be brave, be loyal, be _good,_ and raise our children to be the same.
> 
> I look forward to the day we will be together again. Forever. I’ll be sure to tell Wells about you when I see him. He is going to lose his mind.
> 
>  
> 
> May we meet again.
> 
> All my love, Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are the letters I have written so far. If you're interested in seeing a letter Clarke may have written to someone else, let me know! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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